


Call and Answer

by bearfeathers



Series: The Things They Carried [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Welcome to Night Vale, captain america: the winter soldier - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brainwashing, CATWS spoilers, Dad Phil Coulson, Dating, Developing Relationship, Dogs, Double Agents, F/M, Flirting, Gen, Life Model Decoys, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Secrets, Self Confidence Issues, Simwell, Skype, Team as Family, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-01-05 04:09:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 65,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearfeathers/pseuds/bearfeathers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Really, Jemma had only intended to call and apologize.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's Too Late (at Night) to Apologize

Jemma Simmons hesitates uncertainly at the door. She raises her hand to knock, only to pause and draw it back hurriedly, shifting from foot to foot. She repeats the process several times, scolding herself each time for her cowardice. It’s not as though it’s something she needs to be embarrassed about, after all. It’s a perfectly legitimate question with entirely innocent intentions. In fact, it’s the _right_ thing to do, not just the polite one, so really she’s just being silly by blowing this all out of proportion, isn’t she?

Sucking in a deep breath, she reaches up and knocks sharply before she has the chance to second-guess herself. There’s a call for entry from the other side and she pushes the door open quickly, like ripping off a bandage, shutting it behind her just as hurriedly, as though she could somehow shut the door quick enough so that her silly anxieties couldn’t follow her inside.

Phil looks up from whatever he’d been reading—files of some sort, it seems—and smiles, looking entirely unsurprised to find her in his office.

“Finally decided I wasn’t so scary after all?” he quips.

“I… what? Sir?” Jemma blurts.

“I could hear you talking to yourself outside the door,” he explains.

“Oh,” she says, lowering her eyes guiltily. She looks up suddenly. “Oh, it’s not that I’m afraid of you or anything, sir. Really, you’re very easy to talk to. You’re not intimidating at all. Honestly.”

“Not even a little?” he asks, looking highly disappointed.

Jemma opens her mouth and closes it, not quite sure what to say. She lets out a relieved sigh when he chuckles and shakes his head at her.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist pulling your leg a little,” Phil informs her. He leans forward in his seat and gestures for her to take a seat before he folds his hands over his desk. “Now, what did you want to see me about?”

Jemma slowly slips into the proffered seat, her posture ramrod straight as she scoots to the very edge of it.

“Well, sir, it’s about what happened at the Hub,” she begins.

“I assume you’re referring to the incident with Agent Sitwell?” he asks.

“That would be the one,” she replies, wincing.

She’s surprised when she gets a sympathetic look in return. “Well, given the situation, I think he’d understand. We’ve all made questionable decisions at one time or another in our lives. You were doing something to aid your teammates; I don’t think anyone can really fault you for that, even if your method was… a bit unconventional.”

“Thank you for saying so. And that’s actually the reason I’m here,” Jemma says, leaning forward in her seat. “I know that Agent Sitwell was brought to the infirmary and I suppose I just wished to apologize to him personally.”

“Understandable,” Phil says with a nod of his head. He reaches for a pen and a stack of sticky notes and begins writing as he speaks. “You should know that Jasper has a bad track record with being drugged. So being admitted to the infirmary is more because he tends not to handle them well and less because of your actions in particular. He seemed perfectly fine when I visited him, but I’m sure hearing from you wouldn’t hurt.”

“You… visited him?” Jemma prompts.

Phil pulls off the top sticky note and reaches across the desk to hand it to her. “I was Jasper’s S.O. when he first joined S.H.I.E.L.D.; he’s an old friend.”

“I see,” Jemma says, taking the note and wondering what it says about her that she shot her team leader’s old friend in the chest. She looks down at the note. “This is a number.”

“That’s his personal,” Phil says. “You’re more likely to catch him with that one.”

“I don’t suppose you’d have his email address instead?” Jemma fishes uncertainly.

“You really want to send an apology via email?” Phil asks, not unkindly.

“No, I suppose not,” Jemma admits.

It seems to her that he takes pity on her then because he leans forward in his seat, the look in his eyes telling her that he’s going Papa Bear on her. Skye had been the first one to refer to Melinda and Phil as mom and dad, but it had stuck. Because they really are rather parental, aren’t they? In any case, she’s grown used to Phil watching out for all of them in much the same way a father would and his treatment of her now is therefore unsurprising.

“I apologized to Jasper myself and I can assure you there are no hard feelings,” he informs her. “You don’t really have to apologize to him if you don’t want to.”

“No, sir, I do,” she says resolutely, his words only serving to make her surer of herself on the matter. “It’s the right thing to do. And it’s the professional thing to do. If we’re to work with Agent Sitwell again in the future, I want to be sure that this incident isn’t hanging over either of us.”

Maybe it’s just the light, but she swears she sees a proud twinkle in his eye as he smiles at her.

“Alright. Well, you have his number,” he says, gesturing to the note in her hand.

“Yes. Thank you, sir,” she says.

She sits and waits for him to say something else. There’s a pregnant pause before he raises his eyebrows at her.

“Something else you needed?” he questions.

“Oh. No. I was just… I’m sorry, I have a difficult time understanding when you’ve dismissed me,” Jemma says as she nearly jumps from her seat. “Well then, ehm… sleep well?”

“Thank you,” Phil says with a nod. “Goodnight, Jemma.”

“Goodnight, sir,” she answers with a small smile.

As she slips out of his office, she’s fairly certain that he isn’t going to be doing anything remotely resembling sleeping for some time despite the lateness of the hour. If she were in a position to do so, she might have heckled him a little more into doing so, but she’s certain Mama Bear will give him a properly stern glare come morning.

So she returns to her bunk, stopping to check on Leo and pleased to see him fast asleep with his face mashed in his pillow. It had been a terrifying ordeal for all of them, knowing he and Grant were out there without an extraction prepared, but everyone is back safe and sound, tucked in for the night, and so she tries to let her worries end there. Except she has this slip of paper in her hand with a number that she really should call.

An hour later, Jemma is sitting in bed in her pajamas, still fiddling with the slip of paper Phil had handed her. It’s not that hard, is it? It’s just a phone call. And it doesn’t even have to be a particularly long one; just hello, this is Agent Simmons, I’m sorry I shot you in the chest and dragged your unconscious body to the corner of a restricted hallway, I look forward to working with you in the future, goodnight.

That’s not hard at all.

And yet she continues to hesitate. In all likelihood, he’s not even awake at this hour. Although, the more she thinks about it… the more she thinks that may work in her favor. She could call and just leave a voicemail. That way, if he felt like it, he could return her call and perhaps they could have a conversation that didn’t have such an uncomfortable subject matter. This way, he would see she’d made an honest attempt to contact him directly and, as he was asleep, had left a polite voicemail instead. He’s not likely to answer his personal number at this hour, is he? No, not at all.

Confident in her new plan of action, she retrieves her phone and dials the number that had been given to her. She waits patiently as the phone rings once, twice, three times. As the voicemail greeting begins to play, she breaths out a sigh of relief. Her plan is going perfectly.

_“Sitwell.”_

Jemma freezes as the recording is cut off by a groggy greeting. No, no, no, he wasn’t supposed to pick up. This is _not_ how the plan was supposed to go.

_“Hullo?”_

She hangs up.

She hangs up and tosses her phone to the edge of her bed. So much for leaving a voicemail. So much for escaping with so much as a shred of her dignity intact. At the very least he won’t have known it was her, right? As her phone begins to ring, the likelihood of that possibility is waning. Biting on her lower lip, she contemplates just letting it ring through, but thinking back on her conversation with Phil, she knows she has to take responsibility. So, taking a deep breath, Jemma grabs her phone and answers the call.

“Hello?” she says, hoping against hope that she can get away with a ‘wrong number’ excuse.

_“Good morning, Agent Simmons.”_

Well, no chance of that, then. She tries not to wince.

“Ah, yes. Good morning, Agent Sitwell,” she says, clearing her throat.

_“Is there any particular reason why you’re calling me at—“_ There is a pause where she imagines he must be squinting at the clock. _“—quarter of four in the morning?”_

“I’m terribly sorry, I really am, I was just going to leave a voicemail,” she explains . “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

_“I’ve woken to worse things.”_

Jemma can’t help her nervous twitter of laughter, but can’t say anything in return. What _could_ she say to that?

_“So, are you gonna tell me what was so urgent that you had to leave me a voicemail at this hour?”_ he asks her, her voice still heavy with sleep.

“Right. That,” Jemma says. “Well… I was just… What I mean is, I had been feeling…”

She stops herself, takes a deep breath and lets it out. It’s not that hard. It doesn’t have to be that hard.

“I wanted to apologize,” she says.

_“Mm. You do know that Phil already took care of that for you, right?”_ Jasper asks.

“Yes, he did mention that,” Jemma says. “But I’m afraid I don’t feel comfortable with allowing someone to make an apology that I should be making myself. Whether it’s standard procedure or not, I don’t care to let my superior take responsibility for my actions.”

_“That’s good to know,”_ Jasper says. _“And apology accepted.”_

“Really? Just like that?” Jemma queries uncertainly.

_“Just like that,”_ Jasper hums.

“Well then. That was easier than I’d anticipated,” Jemma states. She tugs on the hem of her shirt. “But I really am very sorry. That sort of behavior isn’t something I make a habit of, it’s just…”

_“You were looking out for your team. I get it,”_ Jasper says. _“Water under the bridge.”_

“You’re alright, then? No adverse side effects?” Jemma probes.

_“Still a bit drowsy, but I’ve been told I’ll just sleep it off,”_ Jasper informs her. _“For such a ridiculous name, that thing sure packs a punch.”_

Jemma snorts. “Well, at least I’m not the only one who thinks it’s ridiculous.”

There’s a short span of silence before she hears a yawn on the other end of the line and she remembers that she’d woken him for this conversation. Put on top of any lingering effects from the Night Night Pistol, she’s sure he’d probably prefer to go back to sleep than to listen to her go on.

“I’m sorry, I’m keeping you awake,” she notes.

_“Like I said, I’ve woken to worse things,”_ Jasper answers with a sleepy laugh that borders on giggling. _“’Sides, what are you doing awake?”_

“Well, I…” Jemma says, trailing off. Her tone drops considerably in volume as she fiddles with a loose thread on her pajama sleeve. “I suppose I was just a bit worried, is all.”

_“I appreciate the concern,”_ Jasper says, his tone warm. _“But seeing as I’m fine, do you think maybe we could both go to sleep?”_

“I believe so,” Jemma answers. “But one more thing.”

She hears an assenting hum, prompting her to continue.

“I still feel very badly over the whole thing and I was wondering if I could make it up to you,” Jemma says in a rush, certain that if she doesn’t, it won’t be said at all. “Perhaps the next time we’re at the Hub I could… take you to lunch?”

_“On one condition.”_

“Yes?”

_“I’m pretty sure I asked you to call me Jasper. So you should call me Jasper.”_

“Yes, you did say that, didn’t you?” Jemma asks, feeling a flush creep up on her cheeks. “I suppose I can agree to those terms.”

_“Glad to hear it. And I’d be glad to hear from you again,”_ Jasper tells her.

“Perhaps at a more reasonable hour,” Jemma teases.

_“That might be nice,”_ Jasper answers. She hears another yawn. _“Speaking of which, as much as I’d like to continue this conversation, consciousness isn’t working in my favor so I’m gonna have to throw in the towel here.”_

“Of course,” Jemma says, nodding her head in understanding despite the fact that he can’t see it. “We can… we can continue another time?”

_“If you call, I’ll answer.”_

She finds herself smiling. “Goodnight then, Agent, ah… I mean, goodnight, Jasper.”

_“Goodnight, Agent Simmons.”_

It’s only after they’ve both hung up and she places her phone on the nightstand that she considers how that conversation had gone. She’d intended to leave an apologetic voicemail and had wound up effectively asking a superior officer out to a lunch date. Not the plan she’d laid out, but she can’t say she’s disappointed in the turn of events.

Perhaps next time she should ask him to call her Jemma.


	2. Don't Wake Leo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following their little Asgardian adventure, the team settles into their hotel rooms and Jemma gets a late night phone call. Not that she's complaining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post S01E08 "The Well."

Jemma had already fielded one difficult phone call today—although, in many ways, speaking to Mum and Dad had been a weight off her shoulders—so she really wasn’t expecting another so shortly after. Well, to be fair, when _Mr. Agent Sitwell Sir_ (Skye had insisted that no other contact name would be acceptable) flashed across her screen, she couldn’t help but smile a little. This phone call wasn’t difficult in the same way the one with her parents had been, it’s simply that between her hurried, late-night apology call and now, they haven’t spoken. She’d been tempted to call the next morning to see if he actually remembered any of it, but had thought better and held off.

Now she finds her phone buzzing insistently just as she had been preparing to go to bed. Glancing over at Leo’s sleeping form in twin bed he’d claimed in their shared hotel room, she decides that he really is quite asleep and answers the call.

“Give me a moment to get to the balcony,” she says quietly into the receiver.

_“This a bad time?”_

“No. No, no, no, now is a perfect time,” she whispers insistently, tiptoeing past her fellow scientist. “Just give me a moment…”

Very carefully, she unlocks the sliding glass door and nudges it open just enough to slip through before sliding it shut behind her, all without disturbing her roommate. Thankfully the awning overhead has kept the balcony dry as the rain had set on, so she can now comfortably tuck herself into one of the chairs there, curling her toes over its edge as she watches the city down below.

“Sorry,” Jemma says, breathing out a sigh of relief as she permits herself to speak at a conversational volume. “Didn’t want to wake Fitz.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line following this announcement. _“If I misunderstood our last conversation, we could always just blame it on the drugs.”_

“What?” she says, confused. But her brain catches up to her mouth rather quickly and the meaning of his words becomes clear, bringing up a healthy flush to her cheeks. “Oh, no, no, it’s not like that between me and Fitz. Really, he’s like the brother I never had. Although I can’t really say that, as I’ve got actual brothers, it’s really more that whole ‘You can’t pick your family’ sort of thing. Not that I would ever pick anyone besides the brothers I have, it’s just that I could have done with a little less chewing gum in my hair and a little more understanding when I brought up anything even _remotely_ scientific.”

She clamps her mouth shut suddenly. God, here she’s been rambling on like a loon again when all he’d done was say one thing. She hears a chuckle from the other end of the line.

_“Why the sudden silent treatment?”_ he asks.

“I was just thinking I was rambling a bit,” Jemma admits.

_“That’s okay. I like it when you ramble,”_ Jasper assures her.

“Really? You’re not just saying that? Most people find it a bit much,” Jemma says.

_“When you ‘ramble’ you speak quickly because you’re saying things you think no one will be interested in hearing, which, from what I’m gathering, you probably picked up from having brothers who couldn’t keep up with what you were talking about and therefore just talked over you. So you had to adapt to get a word in,”_ Jasper says. _“So when I say I like it when you ramble, I like it when you talk. Don’t go assuming people don’t want to hear what you have to say.”_

Jemma finds herself a little astounded at his deduction and, on top of that, a little touched. So maybe she’s got a few issues with self-confidence that need addressing, sure, but who doesn’t? But it’s nice, for once, to have someone other than Fitz who’s patient enough to actually _listen_ to what she’s saying. Someone who _wants_ to hear all these things she thinks are inane and stupid and better off unsaid.

“Thank you,” she says, smiling despite knowing he can’t see it. “That’s actually quite accurate.”

_“See? I’m good for something.”_

She laughs at that. “I’m sure you’re good for a great deal of things. Agent Coulson told me that he was your SO when you first joined. He seems fond of you.”

_“Phil and I have a lot of history,”_ Jasper says. _“And I should hope he’s fond of me. I’ve saved his ass enough times to earn a little fondness.”_

“Oh really?” Jemma intones, making a soft, interested noise.

_“Don’t get the wrong idea, it’s a mutual arrangement, but he’s got a talent for getting himself into sticky situations. But I guess when you’ve got the devil’s luck when it comes to getting out of them, you don’t worry about that as much,”_ Jasper notes idly. _“Speaking of sticky situations, I heard you were involved in one of an Asgardian nature.”_

“The good old S.H.I.E.L.D grapevine hard at work, I see,” Jemma quips.

_“Like you expected anything else,”_ Jasper comments. _“Everything okay over there?”_

Jemma sighs, hugging herself a little tighter in her oversized sweater. “For the most part, yes. Everyone’s in fairly good shape, considering what’s gone on. Honestly, I’m a tad worried about lingering effects from the Berserker Staff; both Ward and May handled it and Ward already demonstrated how the effects don’t wear off simply because contact has ceased.”

_“Ward seemed to get himself under control, from what I’ve gathered,”_ Jasper replies.

“Yes, that’s true,” Jemma says. “I suppose I’m just overly concerned. It’s just that Professor Randolph had told us that touching the staff would bring about the wielder’s worst memories… seeing how shaken both of them were after, I can’t even begin to imagine what they’d seen.”

_“They’ve seen some terrible things, both before and during their time with S.H.I.E.L.D., but in this case I think it’s probably better to not think too hard about it,”_ Jasper tells her. _“Just keep an eye on them, make yourself available if they need to talk—but I doubt they will. It’s all you can do. And if your gut tells you something, take it to Phil.”_

“I suppose you’re right,” Jemma says. She toys with the hem of her sweater. “How have things been at the Hub?”

_“Running like clockwork, as usual. Why the sudden change in topic?”_ he asks.

“Well, we’ve been talking about me and how my day’s gone all this time and I’d like it if you talked a little about yourself, too,” she tells him.

_“Well,”_ Jasper says, sighing noticeably. _“It’s been a long week. And the idea of hearing the sound of your voice for a little seemed like the right prescription for that.”_

Jemma’s thankful he can’t see her blushing. Because she is. Quite ferociously at that. Apparently he takes her answering silence the wrong way.

_“Does that bother you?”_

He says it in a way that sounds like he’d drop the matter entirely if it did and that only serves to make the whole thing more endearing than it was to begin with.

“No, not at all,” Jemma says, shaking her head. “It’s quite nice, actually.”

_“If I’m ever coming on too strong, you’re in the clear to tell me to back the fuck up,”_ he declares.

She laughs at that, a little louder than she should, perhaps, and she claps a hand over her mouth as she gazes through the glass of the sliding door worriedly. Thankfully, Leo seems undisturbed by her mirth, but she makes a mental note not to wake the entire hotel.

“If I ever think you’re coming on too strong, I’ll be sure to let you know,” Jemma agrees. “But I’m enjoying our conversations. I’m looking forward to having more of them. Perhaps you’ll even tell me about one of the many times you’ve saved Agent Coulson’s ass.”

He laughs at her cheeky tone, a warm, deeply amused sound.

_“I’ll make sure to have a good one prepared next time,”_ Jasper says. _“In the meantime, I’m probably keeping you awake at this point.”_

“I don’t mind,” Jemma answers honestly.

Because yes, it’s past midnight, but Jasper isn’t the only one who’s had a long few days. Jemma loves her team, is growing to love them more as they spend more time together, but talking to someone outside the team is refreshing. Talking about silly things, everyday things, is something she finds she needs. And Jasper is… well. He’s Jasper. And maybe she likes hearing his voice as much as he likes hearing hers.

_“You don’t, but I do. I’m gonna feel guilty if I keep you up all night,”_ Jasper tells her. _“Believe me, I’d love to keep you up all night, but I’ll feel like an ass about it tomorrow if I do.”_

“Alright. If only because I wouldn’t want you to feel guilty,” Jemma says, giving in. “Perhaps I could text you in the morning?”

_“I’ll be sad if you don’t.”_

“Then a text you will get,” she says brightly. She hesitates, biting her bottom lip as she mulls something over. What was it Phil had said, though? Sometimes you have to just jump right in and figure things out. Granted, this doesn’t compare to sticking your hand into the gaping wound in an Asgardian’s chest, but it’s still something she has to work herself up to. “And Jasper?”

_“Yeah?”_

“I’d like it if you’d call me ‘Jemma,’ please,” she states.

_“Jemma it is.”_

“Goodnight, Jasper,” she says.

_“Goodnight, Jemma,”_ he answers.

She disconnects from the call and slowly stretches her legs. Really, she thinks, her name shouldn’t sound that good when he says it. But it does.

* * *

The team is looking a little haggard when they all gather in the lobby. From Grant and Melinda she had expected this—and her conversation from the night prior echoes in her mind. She’ll be keeping an eye on them as they proceed to do what she’s sure they’ll do, which is to deny, deny, deny that anything at all is the matter and to cover up any traces of supposed weakness with brute strength and grit. But she knows how Melinda takes her tea and she knows that Grant likes his sandwiches cut from corner-to-corner and not side-to-side, and sometimes these small things can help. Small, familiar things can act as a balm even when they cannot fix the larger problem at hand.

She had expected this from them; she had not expected it from Phil. He smiles when she bids him good morning and offers the same. He puts on a good show of it, but when you look close enough you can read the exhaustion in his smile and the strain in his eyes, which crinkle fondly all the same. The night has not been kind to the three agents and she can’t help but feel guilty for the pleasant conversation she’d enjoyed.

› _Good morning. Sleep well?_

She sends the text as they climb into the company car. They’d taken two, since they all wouldn’t fit in one and Phil had no intention of letting them anywhere near Lola. So Jemma rides back to the Bus with Phil and Skye while Leo rides back with Melinda and Grant.

›› _Like a baby. You?_

› _A full eight hours and no complaints. Wish I could say the same about everyone._

›› _Uh-oh. What happened?_

› _Well, I’d expected as much from AM and AW. But AC seems rather out of tune this morning as well._

›› _Hard mission. Maybe everyone needs a little downtime before you pick up another one._

› _I hope that’s all it is._

›› _If you think it’s bad, I will personally come and force feed them sleeping pills, no questions asked._

Jemma can’t help it. She giggles. Phil glances at her from the driver’s seat, eyebrow hiked up curiously, but doesn’t ask. He knows well enough that people need their privacy and living together on the Bus means you should afford it to each other at every opportunity. Skye has no such qualms.

“Are you texting Mr. Agent Sitwell Sir?” she exclaims excitedly, leaning forward from the back seat.

Jemma clutches her phone to her breast. “I might be.”

“Oh, come on, spill. Details,” Skye urges.

“Skye, sit back and put your seatbelt on, please,” Phil says, frowning in the rearview mirror.

“It’s private,” Jemma declares. “I never asked to see anything you texted to your secret boyfriend.”

As soon as the words are out, Jemma wishes she could kick herself. Skye adopts the smuggest look imaginable, her grin nearly stretching from ear to ear. Jemma pretends not to notice the slight swerve in the car’s steering following the announcement.

“That’s not what I meant, he’s not my boyfriend,” she says hurriedly, certain her face has to be as red as Lola’s paintjob by now.

“Oh yeah? Then let me see,” Skye prompts.

“No.”

“Come on.”

“ _No_.”

“Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease.”

“I’ve told you, it’s private!”

“Daaaaaaaaaaaad,” Skye mock-whines, “Simmons isn’t sharing.”

“If you two can’t get along, I’ll turn this car around,” Phil declares. “Simmons, you can text Sitwell when we’re back on the Bus. Skye, sit back and put your seatbelt on. And don’t call me ‘dad’ it makes me sound old.”

“Yeah, well—“

“Finish that sentence and you’re grounded,” Phil says, glancing warningly into the rearview mirror.

› _I’ll have to text you later. Dad’s put us on lock-down._

›› _Call him ‘old man.’ :)_ _  
_

› _No! My God, I’ll be killed._

Jemma catches Phil glaring sidelong at her and, giving him her best apologetic smile, she texts Jasper a quick ‘ttyl’ before hurriedly shoving her phone in her jacket pocket. Best not to tempt fate.


	3. Heart Upon My Sleeve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jasper doesn't return any of her calls or texts, Jemma starts to wonder.

Jemma doesn’t want to give way to paranoia. Really, it’s probably nothing, after all. Only… Jasper hasn’t returned any of her calls. Or texts. For two weeks. It’s not as though he isn’t busy and she isn’t busy, it’s not as though either of them haven’t had to undertake lengthy missions, it’s just… well, she’s accustomed to a little warning first. Typically if either of them are going to be unavailable or unreachable for more than a few days, they call. Or text, at the very least. The fact that he’d done neither of these, that he hasn’t returned her calls and that she hasn’t heard from him in a fortnight just leads her to expect the worst. At this point she’s just swiping aimlessly at the touch screen, locking and unlocking it, hoping that the next time she’ll see a message she’s missed.

“I know that look.”

She nearly jumps out of her seat at the unexpected voice, having thought everyone was asleep, but settles down when she finds it’s only Phil.

“You know,” he says, pointing to the cell phone cradled in her hands, “I’m pretty sure genies only come out of lamps.”

Hurriedly she stows the phone in the pocket of her robe, tucking her hair behind her ear as she wraps her arms around her legs. She doesn’t want him thinking she’s desperate or anything. Because she’s not.

“It’s a bit late, isn’t it, sir?” Jemma prods.

“I could say the same to you,” Phil proclaims, filling the kettle and moving it to the stovetop. He looks back over his shoulder. “Tea?”

“Please,” she answers.

He nods to himself and grabs her mug from the cabinet—the pink one with the rabbit wearing glasses on it—and sets it next to his. She smothers a smile, as usual, because it’s always funny to see their team leader set out his dark blue mug with Captain America’s shield emblazoned on it. They’re all a little like that, in a way. The things she’s learned about her teammates simply by observing their favorite coffee mugs is astounding.

“If you need to talk, Jemma,” Phil says, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back against the counter, “we’ve got time while the water boils.”

She bites her lower lip, wondering if she should.

“Of course, you don’t _have_ to,” Phil amends. “But I want you to know that if you ever do need to talk, I’ve got an open door policy.”

Jemma wrinkles her nose. “…but it’s silly.”

Phil smiles. “Try me.”

Maybe it’s the fact that she really does want to talk to _someone_ about this, or maybe it’s simply the fact that her superior looks oddly disarming in his pajamas, but she finds her resolve has gone out the window in a matter of seconds.

“He hasn’t returned any of my messages,” Jemma sighs.

“Alright,” Phil says. “When was the last time you spoke?”

“Well, the last text he sent was two weeks ago,” Jemma recounts. “And the last time we’d spoken on the phone was two days before that.”

“And was there any sort of… disagreement? Anything to suggest he might avoid contacting you for this long?” Phil asks.

“If anything it’s the opposite,” Jemma says, resting her chin on her knees. “We’ve been getting along well. Very well.”

Too well? Doubt starts to gnaw at her insides.

“No, he hasn’t been leading you on,” Phil says.

“How did you know?”

“That you were thinking that or that he hasn’t been leading you on?”

“Both, I suppose.”

“You break eye contact when you’re feeling self-conscious and tend to look at the floor. The natural progression from your responses would be to say that you thought things were going _too_ well,” Phil says with a shrug. “As for Jasper, I know that he hasn’t been leading you on mostly because he’s been nagging me night and day to find out if you say anything about him.”

“He… he has,” Jemma says, not quite sure that she’s heard him right.

The kettle begins to whine and he briefly turns away from her, seeing to each their mugs before approaching her. Setting out two coasters, he places the mugs down to let the tea steep and nudges the milk and sugar between them so they can each doctor it to their liking, before he sits on the couch beside her. He leans back, folding his hand in his lap and slouching just the slightest bit.

“I haven’t seen him this anxious over a woman in a long time,” Phil tells her.

“Anxious? Because of me?” Jemma repeats.

“Does that surprise you?” Phil asks with a small smile.

“Frankly, yes. Very much so,” Jemma admits with a frown. “I just can’t imagine what he could be anxious about. He certainly never seems it.”

“He’s good at playing it smooth,” Phil says. “But I’ll let you in on a secret: he’s got a powerful weakness for cartoons and animated movies. I personally guarantee he will cry any time he watches _The Land Before Time_.”

Jemma makes a mental note of this and decides that between missions, she’s going to have to purchase a copy.

“When it comes right down to it, he’s about as nervous over this whole thing as you are,” Phil says.

She wonders though. Phil and Jasper are friends and have been so for quite some time. It’s not as though she would expect the man sitting beside her to lie on Jasper’s behalf, but she wonders if she’s getting the whole truth here.

“Sir, you don’t have to lie to make me feel better,” Jemma declares stubbornly. “I’m quite capable of handling the truth, even if it’s unpleasant.”

That seems to get Phil thinking and she wonders, what with his sudden silence, if she’s about to get the truth she assured him she could handle. Because she’s not sure she can handle it. Or, rather, she doesn’t especially want to handle it. Because for once she has something good, something nice in her life and she’s loathe to give that up. It might hurt just a little too much to find out that Jasper isn’t as interested in her as she is in him.

“Jemma, you are a bright, charming, gorgeous young woman. You’re passionate about your work, you’re clever beyond reason and hands-down one of the most caring, dedicated individuals I’ve had the pleasure of working with,” Phil says gently. “You are—if you’ll excuse the pun—a gem. Jasper’s very much aware of the fact that any man—or woman—would be lucky to have your attention and, speaking from experience, that’s enough to make any guy anxious. In this line of work, when you find something good, the risk of losing it is high. So naturally when you find something amazing, you have to wonder how you were lucky enough to find it in the first place and when you can expect the other shoe to drop.”

She doesn’t want him to think she’s overly emotional or that she can’t handle a simple conversation without bursting into tears, but… well… here she is. Burying her face in the sleeves of her too-large sweater doesn’t help, as the tears just come all the same. Even her hope that he won’t notice, that he’ll just think she’s hiding her face out of embarrassment, doesn’t go as she’d planned.

“Oh,” she hears him say. “That… wasn’t supposed to make you cry. Uh… tissues. Tissues.”

She lifts her head and scrubs the tears away with her sleeve. In the end, she winds up laughing the rest of them away as Phil searches high and low for tissues, only to come back with a stack of napkins, looking highly disappointed.

“I can’t believe we don’t have any tissues around here,” he declares as she pulls a few from the stack. “What kind of operation am I running that we don’t think to bring tissues?”

That gets another laugh out of her as she dabs at her eyes, even more embarrassed than before. He probably thinks the worst of her, watching her spring a leak over a compliment.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I really didn’t mean to cry. It’s just that… well. When you say things like that, I mean, I’m not like Agent May or… or like Skye—“

“And you don’t have to be,” Phil cuts her off. He studies her for a moment, and while not uncomfortable, having his gaze on her leaves her feeling exposed. “I think you’ve gotten a little too used to selling yourself short and I think it’s a great pity that you can’t see what I do. Everything I’ve just said is true—and I’m not the only one who sees it. Maybe someday you’ll see it, too.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jemma says.

She’s sure he likely thinks she’s saying it just to placate him, but she really does mean it. It’s one of the nicest compliments she’s ever received and it baffles her a little to know that he really is telling the truth. She’s not skilled and sexy like Melinda, she’s not pretty and talented like Skye is. She’s plain old Jemma Simmons, gifted with the ability to bore everyone to death with science babble in under ten seconds or your money back. Plain old Jemma Simmons, cursed with the ability to stick her foot in her mouth at the drop of a hat. She’s always been plain, shy and out of the way. To think that someone sees something more than that—it almost seems like too much to wish for.

“But let’s get back to your problem,” Phil says, as though sensing her need to shift the topic. “Did he mention being assigned to any missions?”

“No,” Jemma answers. “And usually if he is, he’ll let me know that he won’t be able to talk. And I do the same. But there’s been nothing. And I hate to seem paranoid or that I’m looking too far into this, but it just seems… strange.”

Phil sips thoughtfully at his tea, processing her answer. “I don’t think you’re being paranoid. I know Jasper to be punctual enough that two weeks without acknowledging your messages is more than odd.”

“Do you think there may be something wrong?” Jemma asks.

“I don’t know,” Phil admits with a frown. “I can check, see if he’s been sent out on any assignments lately.”

“I would appreciate that,” Jemma says with a sigh, finally reaching for her own tea.

“It could just be he’s on an assignment and something happened to his cell,” Phil assures her. “You know, one time I missed my check-in on an assignment in Russia and everyone was convinced I’d been captured by enemy agents.”

“Were you?” Jemma asks.

“No, I, uh…” Phil says, clearing his throat. “Actually I was lost. I missed my check-in because I couldn’t find it and I dropped my communications equipment down a mountain.”

Jemma snorts into her tea, trying to smother a laugh and Phil indulges her, a slightly embarrassed smile on his face.

“The point is, it could just be simple human error,” he tells her. “But I’ll see what I can find out for you. In the meantime, why don’t you finish your tea and try to get some sleep.”

She nods at that, finding it reasonable enough. Staying awake wondering at this point won’t do anyone any good and by the time she wakes up, she’s sure she’ll have some sort of answer to go off of.

“You should try to sleep, too, sir,” she tells him.

There’s a moment where his smile seems to falter, losing some of its natural ease and looking decidedly more forced. But the moment passes and she wonders if she’d seen any of it at all and thinks that perhaps she’s just imagining things.

“After I look into this,” he assures her. “I’ll clean up here. You get to bed.”

“I don’t mind cleaning up,” Jemma’s quick to say.

“I’m sure you don’t mind,” Phil answers, already rising from his seat. “But it’s late and I can see that you’re tired. I’m going to be awake for a bit anyway, and if this job has taught me anything, it’s to sleep when you can.”

She heaves a sigh and rises with him, picking up her mug. She really is very tired, if she’s being honest, and arguing with him will likely not result in being allowed to help. At the very least she can bring the few items to the sink to be washed, though. He doesn’t object and follows close behind her. Once she deposits the mugs and the spoons, she hesitates, lingering by the sink.

“Something wrong?” Phil asks.

“No,” Jemma says. “Just… Thank you, sir.”

She doesn’t think to question whether or not it’s appropriate to hug her superior before she goes ahead and does it. But she feels him tense at the action, remaining stiff and unresponsive for a moment before he relaxes enough to carefully return the embrace. When she pulls away, she’s heartily embarrassed at having acted without thinking.

“Goodnight, sir!” she squeaks, eager to put some space between them.

“Goodnight,” he says simply.

She doesn’t stick around long enough to see the look on his face, just hurries straight off to her bunk wondering if she’s created another situation that needs to be apologized for.

* * *

Phil watches Jemma scurry off to her bunk, a little thankful that the hugging has concluded. It’s not her fault; it’s just that since he’s returned to the field, unexpected physical contact sometimes puts him on edge. Much to his annoyance.

Deciding not to dwell on the matter, he sees to the mugs and the spoons before retreating to his office. There’s research to be done. Booting up his computer, he enters his credentials and accesses S.H.I.E.L.D.’s database. Jasper’s file states that he is currently on assignment, and has been for the past two weeks, matching the date that Jemma had given him. When he attempts to access just where and what this assignment is, however, a heavy frown settles on his face.

The words ACCESS DENIED flash across his screen.

Knowing full well that his security clearance is higher than Jasper’s, he picks up his phone and decides to get the information he needs the old fashioned way. Twenty minutes and a blooming migraine later, he finds himself with no more information than he’d begun with.

_I’m sorry, Agent Coulson, but your security clearance doesn’t permit you to access that information._

The words ring in his ears. All of this spells trouble to him and, for a moment, he’s tempted to go remove Skye’s bracelet just for the sake of having her root through their system for the answer that the system says he’s not allowed to have. But he knows he can’t. He knows he shouldn’t. And he won’t.

Because you have to trust the system.

* * *

If Phil feels uncomfortable with Jemma’s breach of his personal space the night before, he certainly doesn’t let on. The next morning, he calls her into his office for a private word. Apparently, wherever Jasper is, not even Phil’s security clearance is high enough to access. This leaves her feeling both relief and fresh concern. On one hand, it would certainly explain why he hadn’t contacted her, being a highly classified mission and all. On the other hand, well… it’s got to be dangerous, hasn’t it? To be that highly classified means it’s bound to be something terrible.

Phil tells her that she should try not to worry and that he’s sure Jasper will get into contact with her whenever he returns from this mission. He tells her to trust the system. But something in the pit of her stomach tells her that’s not right.

It isn’t until the next day that she gets any relief.

She’s back at the apartment she and Fitz share—because in-between missions they have to live somewhere—enjoying a nice long soak in the tub when there’s an urgent knocking at the bathroom door. With a sigh, she slips further beneath the water. Is a little time to herself too much to ask for?

“You can have it in ten minutes, Fitz, just wait your turn,” she calls.

“I suppose you’d like me to tell Agent Sitwell to call back, then,” Leo’s muffled voice declares from the other side of the door.

“No!” Jemma cries, hurriedly reaching for a towel as she staggers out of the tub, nearly taking half the bath water with her.

She wrenches the door open, shivering at the temperature difference as steam comes pouring out of the bathroom, and plucks the phone from Leo’s grasp. Her partner in crime makes a strangled noise of dejection as she promptly shuts the door in his face and sits down on the edge of the bath.

“Hello?”

_“Why does it seem like I always manage to catch you at a bad time?”_

She breaths out, something that’s half-laugh and half-sigh and all relief.

“It’s not a bad time,” she assures him. “It’s never a bad time.”

 _“Your lab partner seemed to think otherwise,”_ Jasper answers.

“Fitz is just… well, he’s Fitz,” Jemma says by way of an explanation.

 _“I get it,”_ Jasper says. She hears a sigh from him, and it sounds strained. Pained, even. _“Listen, I’m sorry it took me so long to get back to you.”_

“No, no, not at all,” Jemma says. She tugs at a loose thread on her towel. “I know it likely seems a bit paranoid, but where I hadn’t heard from you in some time, I spoke to Agent Coulson about the matter. He looked into your status.”

_“You spoke to Phil about this?”_

“Yes,” Jemma answers, frowning at how sharply the question had been asked. “Would you prefer it if I hadn’t?”

 _“No, it’s just… it’s complicated,”_ Jasper says, his voice softening noticeably.

Jemma worries at her lower lip. “He told me that his security clearance wasn’t high enough to allow him access to your whereabouts. Where _were_ you?”

 _“I can’t tell you that,”_ Jasper answers. _“I wish I could. But it’s classified.”_

Of course, she’d known that she’d get that answer, but she’d had to ask anyway. She gets that feeling again in the pit of her stomach that something’s terribly wrong, but from the sound of it, she’s not going to find out just what that something is.

“I understand,” Jemma answers truthfully. “Can you at least tell me if you’re alright?”

 _“I’m a little banged up, but nothing worse than what I’ve dealt with before,”_ Jasper tells her.

“Well, I hope you saw a doctor for whatever was banged up,” Jemma says.

She hears him hum in affirmation. _“I didn’t get your messages until I got back today. I really am sorry I wasn’t able to get in touch with you until now… it was kind of a dick move.”_

“Well, I was just afraid it might seem… clingy of me,” Jemma confesses.

There’s a pause, long enough to make her worry that he’s going to say something absolutely dreadful. She can hear him breathing and the anticipation gets to her.

“I was worried,” she says quietly.

 _“Where I was, what I was doing,”_ Jasper says, speaking at last, _“I can’t tell you those things. Not right now, anyway. But what I **can** tell you that it wasn’t easy on me and that your messages were about as far from clingy as possible. It’s been a while since I’ve had someone to worry after me. I’ll be honest, I was planning on hitting the scotch and the bed, but I think I needed to hear you more than I need either of those things.”_

She hears another long, slow sigh. She wonders where he’s been and what’s gone on and hates that she can’t know. It’s clear something’s happened—something to hurt him or rattle him, or both—and she thinks back to her conversation with Phil. So maybe he really _does_ fancy her like she does him. And maybe she’s not the only one getting something out of this… relationship. Is it a relationship? Is it a relationship if you’ve really only ever spoken over the phone and through text and email?

“Jasper, are you alright?” Jemma asks.

_“I will be.”_

“What can I do to help?” she presses gently. “Tell me what I can do.”

_“Just… talk to me.”_

So she does. And as they talk, she begins to see that Phil was right. While she very much enjoys the flirtatious smooth-talker she’s come to know Jasper as, underneath that is someone who is clearly as invested in this as she is, someone who desperately does not want to mess this up. Someone who wants to be wanted. Whatever doubt she’d been feeling begins to be chiseled away, piece by piece, and when it’s clear that Jasper needs sleep more than he’d claimed, he agrees to hang up only after she promises to call him in the morning.

The bath water has long gone cold, so she pulls the stopper and changes into her pajamas and brushes her teeth. Leo is sprawled on the sofa, giving her a look that is distinctly unhappy and she gives him her best apologetic look in return as she settles beside him.

“When they say that girls take ages in the bath, is it really because they’re fielding calls from their secret boyfriends?” he jabs.

“Next time you can use the bath first,” she sighs, settling back into the sofa.

Leo watches her and apparently picks up on the fact that she’s not in the mood for teasing. He shifts closer and nudges her ankle with his. “I’m not trying to stop you… I just want him to treat you right. That’s all. Because you deserve a bloke who’ll treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”

“He makes me feel wanted,” Jemma says honestly. “And I think that’s how I make him feel, too.”

“Alright then,” Leo says with a nod.

Approximately half a minute goes by before he leans over and pulls her into a hug. She gives him every bit back and more, knowing that he really is concerned for her and that, given past forays into this field, he’s got good reason to. But this time will be different. Something tells her that, this time, he won’t need to worry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone's wondering, [this is Jemma mug.](http://www.amazon.com/Ceramic-Coffee-Cartoon-Animal-Pattern/dp/B00F16P4W2/ref=pd_rhf_se_p_d_6)


	4. Gravity Rides Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She’s so scared and she’s so worried and she’s so very, very angry.

Jemma takes a moment to compose herself as she has to tell off yet another one of the agents swarming the lab she and Leo share. It’s been nearly two days since the explosion on the bridge, since Mike had been killed and Phil had been abducted, but she can’t seem to get the sound out of her ears. She can’t seem to shift her mind to a lower gear—she wonders what will become of Ace, she wonders what they’ve done with Phil. She wonders what they’re _doing_ to Phil.

She’s afraid of what they’re doing to him.

“No, no, no!” she says for what feels like the hundredth time. “How many times do I have to say it: You do _not_ need that much to stun them! Any more than that and you will kill your intended target. If you aren’t going to respect the effects of this dendrotoxin, then leave it to someone who does. And who actually knows what they’re doing, I might add.”

The agent flounders uselessly, giving her the same cookie-cutter line as the others had. He’s just following protocol, he’s just following orders, he’s just doing as Agent Hand had asked. And really, she knows it’s not their fault, but it’s all still enough to drive her mad. An hour ago she’d said they could use the fresh eyes, but now she can’t help but feel that perhaps Leo and Grant had been right. She’s frazzled as it is without having to hold the hand of every agent that Hand sends stumbling into their lab. Don’t they understand that this requires very precise measurements? Don’t they understand that the slightest miscalculation is the difference between incapacitating the target and eliminating them? Do they care? Likely not, from what she can tell.

“I’d take her word for it. I’ve been on the business end of one of those before; believe me, it’s not pretty.”

Jemma nearly drops the vial in her hands out of surprise. Jasper is standing in the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets and regarding her fondly. She’s grateful beyond measure when he looks pointedly at the agent standing next to her, causing said agent to flee the premises with the sort of haste that is nearly admirable in times like these. A sigh of relief leaves her as Jasper occupies the space beside her that had recently been vacated.

“I got your text,” he says, by way of greeting.

“I didn’t know if you’d be able to make it,” Jemma says, fiddling with the dendrotoxin distractedly.

“Technically, I’m not supposed to be here,” Jasper admits, shrugging one shoulder. “So I can’t stay long, but I figured this was a bit of protocol I’d have to break.”

Jemma’s mouth forms an ‘o’ of shock before she answers. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

He shakes his head, dismissing the notion. “How are you holding up?”

“Oh, well, you know… just fine. Fine,” Jemma answers. “Only it’s been ages and we haven’t got the slightest clue where they’ve taken him or what they want with him.”

“You’ll find him,” Jasper assures her. “And in the meantime, Phil’s a tough bastard. He’ll manage.”

“But this shouldn’t have happened in the first place,” she protests, willing her hands not to shake as she fits the small vial into the cartridge before her. She’s so scared and she’s so worried and she’s so very, very angry. “They just _took_ him and he just _went_ with them and now the Bus is filled with all of these agents who seem to be interested in doing anything _but_ getting Agent Coulson back and it seems to me that he’s Agent Hand’s lowest priority and I beg your pardon but how _dare_ she come onto our plane and just take over like this when all we’re trying to do is just…!”

She has to stop to breathe, her chest heaving with pent up frustration. She’s just sprung a leak, but she has to batten down the hatches and do it quick. Falling apart at the seams isn’t going to help anyone here. She’s stronger than this. She knows she is.

“It’s been thirty-seven hours since he was taken,” Jasper prods. “When was the last time any of you took a break?”

Jemma fumbles for a response, the question catching her off guard. “I’m… I’m not sure, we’ve just been—I mean, since it happened I don’t suppose any of us considered stopping.”

“Then do me a favor and put this aside,” Jasper says.

She opens her mouth to protest, but he cuts her off.

“An hour max,” he promises.

She shakes her head. “I need to make sure the proper dosage is applied to these rounds.”

“Jemma.”

The way he says her name is gentle but firm, leaving no room for argument. There’s a hand pressed to the small of her back but she keeps her eyes trained on the vials and rounds before her because if she makes eye contact with him she knows she’ll give in. And she can’t. They can’t afford to stop, not for anything. The hand retracts and she inhales shakily.

“Then I’m ordering both of you to take a break,” he says. As they begin to babble about how they shouldn’t, about how they can’t step away from their work for even a moment, Jasper presses his fingers to his lips and a shrill whistle hushes both of them. Phil usually just holds up a finger to garner their silence, but this method seems to work just as well. “That wasn’t a suggestion, agents, it was an order. I shouldn’t have to remind you that when a senior agent gives you an order, you obey it. You will each take a break from your work for no less than sixty minutes. Have I made myself clear?”

There’s some hesitation from each of them. Jemma glances across the lab at Leo and one look tells her he feels the same—that taking a break doesn’t sit well with either of them. After seeing some of the horrific things Centipede has done, none of them are keen on letting Phil remain in the insidious organization’s possession for a second longer than necessary. Taking a break means they aren’t actively working towards retrieving him, which means letting him down. For every moment they’re not doing something to help him, they could be hurting him.

“I’m waiting, agents,” Jasper says.

“Yes, sir,” they murmur together.

“Exactly,” Jasper says crisply.

“Fitz, you can go first,” Jemma announces.

“No, _you_ can go first,” Leo counters.

“I would really prefer it if you would go first,” Jemma says, sending a meaningful stare his way.

Leo narrows his eyes, Jemma rolls hers in response. Oh, want to spend some extra private time with your secret boyfriend, do you? No, it’s not like that at all, grow up! They may as well have spoken these things aloud, but really, there’s no need to. There are so many things that can pass between them without so much as an uttered syllable that identical twins would be jealous.

“You’re both going now,” Jasper says, quickly taking control of the situation. “I’ll speak to Agent Hand and have the lab placed on lockdown until you’re back.”

“Yes, sir,” Leo says, looking and sounding none-too pleased with the situation.

“You said you weren’t supposed to be here. Won’t you be in some sort of trouble by announcing that you’re here?” Jemma asks. She remembers herself and hurriedly tacks on, “Sir.”

“I checked in with Agent Hand before I stepped foot on the Bus,” Jasper says. He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Look, I understand that you don’t want to stop what you’re doing. I’ve been there. But the fact of the matter is, however much you think you’re contributing by pushing yourselves to stay on task, you have to reconsider. Your ability to remain focused is commendable, but without giving yourselves a break, you could actually be doing more harm than good. Take a breather and come back with a clearer head and the problem won’t seem as mountainous as it does now.”

Jemma admits that it certainly makes a great deal of sense, but it doesn’t make her feel any less guilty, not does it relieve her uneasiness.

“You’re not helping Agent Coulson by running yourselves into the ground. Pushing yourselves past the point of exhaustion is counterproductive,” Jasper says, driving his point home. “And I guarantee that when he finds out you’ve gone one like this, he’ll be pissed.”

Leo snorts, but doesn’t argue.

“An hour,” he says. “No more.”

“No more,” Jasper assures him.

This is how Jemma and Leo end up sitting in her bunk with the door locked, halfheartedly picking at sandwiches despite their appetites and engaged in quiet, subdued conversation. The brief respite from having their home invaded is much needed; she can see that now that they’re in the relative quiet of her quarters. But with the silence the guilt just seems to weigh down all that much heavier on their hearts.

Only ten minutes has passed before there’s a knock on the door. Jemma shares a look with Leo before rising from her bunk to unlock the door. They’re both pleased to find it’s simply Jasper waiting for them on the other side. He doesn’t make a move to come in—not that the cramped quarters would have allowed him much room to do so anyway.

“Just wanted to check and make sure you were following orders,” he says.

Leo lifts his partially eaten sandwich as proof, rising as he does so. “Think I’m going to have a lie down. Excuse me.”

Jemma knows that Leo isn’t lying—they’re both exhausted and sleep, even in a limited quantity, would be a blessing. But she’s no fool either. He’s cut out just now because he wants to give her and Jasper time alone. She’s not sure if she’s grateful or embarrassed, but is most likely a combination of the two. When Leo has successfully locked himself in his own bunk, she looks to the senior agent before her.

“Would you like to sit down?” she asks, gesturing to the bed behind her.

“You should probably take a leaf out of Agent Fitz’s book,” Jasper says.

She probably should. It’s just that she knows she will just spend the next hour staring up at the ceiling, her mind abuzz with too many thoughts to afford her any sleep. If left alone, she knows she’s just going to work herself up until she’s forced to abandon any thoughts of taking a break and throw herself into her work once more.

“Would you please sit down?” she amends.

There’s a beat of silence before he agrees with a nod and steps inside. She shuts the door behind him before they both take a seat on her bed. He sits with his hands clasped between his knees and watches her, waiting for her to say something, perhaps.

“You said you’ve been here before,” Jemma says.

He hums curiously, prompting her to clarify.

“Earlier, in the lab, you said you’d been in this situation before,” she says.

“Multiple times with various people,” Jasper answers. “But if you’re referring to Phil specifically, then yeah, I’ve been there. I stand by what I said, though: he’s a tough bastard.”

“And how did you handle the waiting?” she asks him. “The not knowing?”

“About the same way all of you are,” Jasper says. He shrugs with an apologetic grin when she gives him a look that is none-too-pleased. “I’m telling you to take a break now because there were a handful of times that I wish I’d had someone to do the same for me. It makes you feel better to keep working because at least then it feels like you’re working towards something, but the reality is that you don’t know when you’ll get him back. You don’t know how long this is going to take or when you might be asked to move out. It’s been thirty-seven hours and it might be another thirty-seven hours; we just don’t know.”

“I don’t think I could stand another thirty-seven hours of this,” Jemma admits.

“It won’t take that long,” Jasper says. “You’ll find him before then.”

“I’ve told you before that I don’t like it when people tell me things just to spare my feelings,” Jemma tells him.

“I remember,” Jasper says. “Which is why I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Jemma sighs loudly, rubbing at her dry, tired eyes. “But you can’t possibly know that.”

“True, I can’t _know_ ,” Jasper says. “But I can believe.”

She glances at him, waiting silently for an explanation. He shifts in his seat, leaning just slightly towards her.

“Did you know that Director Fury refers to Phil as his ‘One Good Eye’?” he asks her.

“No, I didn’t,” she answers.

“Can you guess why Director Fury refers to him that way?” Jasper queries.

She shakes her head.

“It’s because that’s his talent. He looks at someone and sees the good in them, sees the potential in them that no one else can. He knows how to foster growth and manifest that potential,” Jasper says. “That’s something I can attest to first hand. I’m not saying he saved me from anything; I did that myself. But he was instrumental in the process that shaped me into becoming something I never would have dreamed of otherwise.”

He pauses, as though for reflection, and Jemma can see he’s a million miles away. She knows that Phil and Jasper are old friends, she knows that Phil was Jasper’s S.O., but she knows very little of their relationship otherwise. How deep that river runs, she just can’t say. Someday perhaps that will change. For now, the moment is gone and Jasper’s attentions are back on her.

“He was allowed to hand-pick this team. He could have chosen anyone in the entirety of S.H.I.E.L.D., could have had any of the specialists, the veterans, the living legends that our organization lays claim to,” Jasper says. “And he chose you. All of you. Phil’s always been kind of funny in that regard. He claims he’s not a betting man and yet he plays some of the most dangerous odds I’ve ever seen. Odds like the Avengers Initiative. So when he chose all of you for this team, it was for a good reason. It was because he saw something in each of you that no one else did and that you probably haven’t figured out for yourselves yet. But it’s there. He chooses to believe in all of you and that’s why I believe you’ll find him.”

Jemma wishes she was so sure. But they’ve never dealt with something like this before. Before coming onto the Bus, she and Leo weren’t even cleared for field duty. Granted, they’ve made progress, but they’re still not really cleared for it, are they? Skye isn’t even really an agent. They’ve got Melinda and Grant who are capable agents, but between the five of them can they really do this? She has to hope that they can. She has to believe that the faith Phil has put in them isn’t unfounded. She has to try.

“You can do this. But you have to stay sharp and that means giving yourself a break once in a while,” Jasper tells her. “So when the time for action comes, you’ll be ready.”

She nods. There’s no other option because she can’t even consider the possibility that they might not find him. They don’t even know what Centipede wants with him. It had seemed fairly cut and dry as to why they wanted Mike, but Phil… what use could they have for him other than a bartering chip of some kind? And yet there’s been no attempt by them to use him in that manner. True, he _is_ a Level 8 operative, but what sort of information could they hope to get out of him that would be of any use to them?

Lost in her own thoughts, she barely notices as an arm makes its way around her shoulders. Jaspers leaves his touch light, giving her time to give him the signal to back off. Instead, she leans into him. His arm tightens around her and she drops her head onto his shoulder, letting her eyes fall shut with a soft sigh.

“You really should sleep,” he says quietly.

“I know,” Jemma answers. “I’d like to stay like this for a little. If that’s alright.”

“It’s alright.”

She can hardly remember the last time she’d sat with someone like this who wasn’t Leo. She should feel nervous—and part of her does—but mostly she just feels at ease, reassured by his presence. It may have to do with the fact that Jasper understands how she feels about this situation as few others possibly could. It should feel strange being so close to someone she’s only met in person twice now, but it hardly feels that way at all. All those phone calls and text messages have to amount to something, don’t they?

“Are you worried?” she murmurs.

“I’m worried,” he answers.

“Even though you believe we’ll get him back?”

“Even though I believe you’ll get him back,” he agrees. He pats her arm. “Now come on, get some sleep.”

She really would rather not move. As far as she’s concerned, there’s no _reason_ to move. In fact, she’s fairly certain she could sleep just as she is now, although she’s not sure how Jasper would feel about being used as a human pillow.

“Something tells me I’m not going to get you to move,” Jasper says, sounding vaguely amused by the idea.

“Well, if you’d really like me to move I certainly can,” Jemma mumbles.

“I could ask you,” Jasper says, “but I think I’ve got a better idea. Scoot back a bit.”

Jemma pries herself from his side long enough to comply, pushing back on the bed until her back touches the wall. Jasper follows suit, leaning back against the wall before lifting his arm again. In no time flat, she’s molded to his side like a limpet on a rock, her legs tucked up and her arm across his middle.

“Better?” he asks.

“Much,” she answers. “But won’t you be uncomfortable this way?”

“I think I can stand it for an hour,” Jasper says.

“Forty-two minutes,” she corrects him, even as she shuts her eyes.

He chuckles; an action she feels as much as hears. “Well, excuse me.”

“You’re excused,” she murmurs. “Just don’t forget.”

“Forty-two minutes from now, your alarm will go off,” Jasper tells her. “I promise.”

Jemma doesn’t say much more to that, only humming in acknowledgement as she slowly allows herself to drift off, tucked against his side. He’s running a hand gently up and down her back, his fingertips trailing lazily along her spine. She thinks that he might keep talking, that he might be whispering soft, reassuring things to her… but that could very well be just a dream.

* * *

 

It’s the middle of the night and Jemma is still a ball of nervous energy. They’d managed to find Phil and rescue him, but not long after he’d been back he was mysteriously absent again. She trusted Melinda’s judgment, knowing that she wouldn’t have allowed Phil to drive off without reason, and sure enough he’d only been gone a few hours before he parked Lola in the loading bay and retreated to his office.

She rolls over, burying her face in her pillow and inhaling deeply. It still smells vaguely of Jasper’s cologne. He’d been gone when she’d woken to her alarm—forty-two minutes later—but there had been a note stuck to her clock which had read:

_Sorry I had to run; not exactly my idea of an ideal first date. I’ll make it up to you the next time we can manage some face time. In the meantime, hang in there. I know you’ll find him._

_Talk to you soon._

_\- Jasper_

She picks the sticky note up now, rereading the words and studying his handwriting. The thought of texting him crosses her mind, but she decides against it. Perhaps in the morning. But sleep won’t come easy, so with concern gnawing at her insides, she rises from her bed and exits her bunk. They’ve all decided to spend the night on the Bus, despite being docked—perhaps it’s because they’ve all grown accommodated to a feeling of safety here and after an ordeal such as this one, it’s something they all sorely need; that feeling of home.

Everyone is asleep as far as she knows, so that’s why she’s surprised to find she isn’t the only one having trouble sleeping. Of all of them, she’d least expected to find Phil sitting on the sofa. It had been clear when they’d retrieved him that the experience had been trying, traumatic and exhausting for him, so she’d figured he would be sleeping much of it off. Seeing him there now, though, she feels her concerns multiply.

He’s sitting on the sofa, his head bowed, his shoulders hunched and his hands clasped tightly before him as though in prayer. Perhaps he _is_ praying. She realizes she’s not sure if he’s even religious or not.

“Sir?” Jemma ventures softly.

His head whips up sharply, as though he’d somehow forgotten he wasn’t alone on the Bus. “…Jemma.”

“Are you alright?” she asks, taking a step closer.

He smiles in a way that is meant to be reassuring, but which lacks his usual strength.

“I’m fine,” he says. “Just some trouble sleeping.”

“Are your injuries bothering you?” she asks. “Headaches? Double vision? Nausea or vomiting?”

“No,” he says with a short laugh that seems a great deal more genuine than his smile had. “It’s just been a long few days. I’ve got a lot on my mind. It’s a lot to process.”

He says this and she believes him, because she’s sure it’s the truth. It’s just not the whole truth. She knows it isn’t because he’s smiling as he looks up at her, but she can still see the ways his hands tremble faintly and it makes her heart ache. Beyond his physical injuries, she doesn’t know what Centipede had done to him and he doesn’t appear to be in any mood to tell.

“Why don’t I put the kettle on?” she asks.

He seems to relax somewhat at that, perhaps having expected a barrage of questions. Jemma has no intention of pushing him. If he wants to talk, she will gladly listen, but if he doesn’t then it’s not her place to try and make him. Not now, anyway.

“I didn’t get a chance to properly thank you,” Phil says.

“Certainly you did, sir,” Jemma reminds him. “We were all there.”

“Yes, that’s true,” Phil admits. “But what I meant was more that I’d like to thank each of for your individual efforts and that I hadn’t had an opportunity to do so yet.”

Jemma shakes her head. “Skye did most of the work in finding you. I’m afraid most of our efforts were secondary.”

“I spoke with Agent Hand before she departed,” Phil says, ignoring her statement. “One of the things she told me was how adamant you were about ensuring the rounds for the Night Night Gun were properly dosed. She said it was because you didn’t want to kill anyone.”

All at once, Jemma feels incredibly guilty. She thinks back to when she’d first reprimanded the scientists that Hand had sent to work with them and what Leo had said. That it didn’t matter if the rounds killed those soldiers because they’d taken Phil and that was that. He’d been willing to do whatever it took to get Phil back and she… hadn’t. She hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone. Even the people keeping them from Phil. Even now, as guilty as it makes her feel, she can’t change her mind. She doesn’t want to kill people.

“I’m sorry,” Jemma says. “I really _don’t_ want to kill anyone. But you should have been more important than that. I should have been more worried about what they were doing to you than what might happen to those soldiers.”

“No,” Phil says firmly. “That’s not what I’m trying to say.”

Jemma really doesn’t know what to say. He can’t possibly be _glad_ she’d acted in that way, can he?

“Do you read Harry Potter?” he asks.

If she hadn’t been confused before, then she is now. All the same, she gives him a look which should communicate clear enough that he had just asked her a very, very silly question. Perhaps he catches on because a slight smile twitches at his lips before he elaborates.

“Then you’ll understand what I mean when I say that it takes a great deal of courage to stand up to your enemies, but a great deal more to stand up to your friends,” Phil says. “I know the lengths everyone went through and were willing to go through to get me back. And believe me when I say that it’s… humbling, to say the least.”

He reflects on that for a moment, just as the kettle begins to boil. Jemma leaves him to his thoughts as she gathers their two mugs and sets up the tray. He’s still staring pensively at his clasped hands when she places the tray on the coffee table and takes a seat beside him. It seems to take him a moment to realize she’s sitting next to him and not standing at the counter.

“While I’m moved by that, I’m just as deeply moved by the depth of your concern, not just for me, but for everyone involved,” Phil says. He picks up his mug, holding it up for her to see as he taps a finger against Captain America’s shield. “I know you think you’ve done something wrong. But you haven’t. Did you know, even Captain America shares your sentiments? When he was recruited, he claimed he didn’t want to kill anyone. He just didn’t like bullies.”

“But in this case, don’t you think I should have made an exception?” Jemma asks.

“I’m glad you didn’t. I’m glad that you put your foot down and personally made sure each of those rounds were non-lethal,” Phil says. He sips gingerly at his tea, and still his hands shake. “I knew that all of you would come for me. I’m proud of how you operated as a team. But I’m proud of you, Jemma, for—and I really have to make a pun here—sticking to your guns. You’re an integral part of the moral compass of this team and that’s something you should never be ashamed of.”

She tries to come up with something to say, but there’s nothing she can think of in response to that. So she studies him instead. The cuts and bruises on his face are ghastly, only appearing more so as they’re complimented by the dark circles beneath his eyes. He looks exhausted, as though he could fall asleep at any second, but something is keeping him awake. It’s not his injuries. He would come to her for that. Probably. Maybe. Alright, there’s a good chance he wouldn’t, but she’s still fairly certain this has nothing to do with his injuries.

It has everything to do with whatever had gone on in that house. She’d seen the machine they’d had him strapped into, which looked like a downsized MRI machine, but she still has no idea what it was or what they’d been doing to him there. Judging by Skye and Melinda’s expressions, however, it couldn’t have been anything good. Seeing how much pain he’d been in when she’d entered the room… She feels tears pricking at the corners of her eyes and has to fight them back.

“I’m glad you’re home, sir,” she says.

Jemma can see that the statement means something to him, but he doesn’t answer, just bows his head in a nod. If anything, his hands only seem to shake all the more, prompting her to reach over and still them with her own. She can feel the tremors running through him and, despite the heat of the mug, his skin is cool and clammy.

“Why don’t you let me give you something to help you sleep?” she suggests.

He seems hesitant to accept.

“Just a mild sedative,” she assures him. “Nothing drastic.”

He gives in with a heavy sigh. “Alright.”

It’s strange following him to his room and instructing him to get into bed, but he’s strangely obedient. She injects him with a mild sedative, just as she’d promised, and as she’s cleaning the injection site with an alcohol wipe she can see the effects are already kicking in. It’s somewhat concerning to see him still struggling against the pull of the drug in his system and it occurs to her that perhaps he’s afraid to sleep. Afraid of whatever’s waiting for him there, where no one can help him. Because this is something none of them can rescue him from.

“Just relax, sir,” she implores, patting his hand. “Get some rest.”

He murmurs something unintelligible, making one last ditch effort for keep his eyes open before he gives in. Less than a minute later, he’s out like a light, breathing deep and even. Jemma hangs around, watching him for a time to ensure that he well and truly is asleep. When she’s satisfied that he is, she gently pulls her hand away from his and exits his room as quietly as possible. She cleans up from their brief tea and carries her mug with her back to her bunk.

Knees drawn up to her chest and mug cradled in her hands, Jemma wonders. She wonders what this means for the team and moving forward. She wonders what this means for Phil. She wonders what this means for her. There’s a distinct feeling of having come to a turning point, but where it will lead any of them, she just can’t say.

Having finished her tea and finding herself with more questions than answers, she decides to take her own advice and get some rest. Dousing her light and clutching her pillow close, she closes her eyes and prays that whatever road they’ve started down won’t get the best of them.


	5. The Leo Dilemma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's rare that Jemma and Jasper have the opportunity to meet in person. So when Jasper asks her out on a date, she's excited by the idea. There's just one problem.

Since the incident at S.H.I.E.L.D.’s Science and Technology Division, Leo has been a bit withdrawn. Not overly so, not enough for the others to notice, but Jemma’s not the others. She sees it in his eyes, when to all the world it looks as though he’s focused entirely on the task at hand and in reality that’s so very far from the truth. He’s reviewing his actions that day, cataloging them, creating alternate scenarios. Even now as they sit on the sofa enjoying a rare day off, she can see it.

Her phone vibrates on the coffee table, disrupting her thoughts and drawing her away from the article she had forgotten she was reading. She doesn’t bother the slight smile that makes its way to her face, when she sees an incoming call from “Mr. Agent Sitwell Sir.” Trading the magazine for her phone is something that she does without question, although she takes care not to hurl the magazine away from herself in haste.

“You’ve got impeccable timing, have I told you that?” Jemma greets him.

 _“You may have, once or twice,”_ Jasper answers. She can practically hear the smile in his voice. _“I could always stand to hear it again.”_

“Cheeky,” Jemma says with a cluck of her tongue. “How was Vancouver?”

 _“Oh, you know. About as cold as you’d imagine Canada in the middle of the winter would be,”_ Jasper snorts. _“Heard you had a bit of trouble with the cold, too.”_

“You _did_ hear about that, then,” Jemma hums.

Of course he would have. Because, like all experienced agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., Jasper has that uncanny—and frankly somewhat frightening—ability to know what’s going on nearly anywhere at any time. She’s gotten used to it with time—people like Phil and Melinda have helped in that regard—and more than anything, it’s become a comforting feeling knowing he’s keeping tabs on her when they’re not together.

 _“It’s hard not to hear about it,”_ Jasper answers. _“It’s hard not to hear about **anything** you and your team get up to.”_

“I suppose we’re not exactly quiet,” she admits, mentally reviewing all of their assignments thus far.

 _“You guys aren’t your typical S.H.I.E.L.D. unit,”_ he tells her. _“It’s not a bad thing. Just different.”_

Jemma hums in agreement.

 _“Listen, are you in town tonight?”_ Jasper asks.

“For the next few days, at least,” Jemma answers, fairly certain she knows where this is going.

 _“Then if you’re not busy, maybe we can take another crack at that first date thing?”_   he asks.

“I would love to,” Jemma says, rising from her seat and walking towards her room. Leo doesn’t acknowledge the fact that she’s gotten up and as she closes the door, she sees he’s still staring vacantly at the television. She bites her lip, hesitating just a moment longer. “I really would. But you see, after what happened… Fitz is a bit out of sorts, you see.”

Jasper makes a noise of understanding, but she can tell this has put him off somewhat. Her suspicions are confirmed by his answer.

 _“I’m not doubting that’s the case, but I’m just hoping that you know that if you don’t want to do this, then I’ll back off,”_ Jasper tells her.

“ **No** ,” Jemma says firmly. “It’s not that at all. I know it’s been difficult trying to coordinate our schedules and that my answer must seem as though I’m trying to avoid you, but that’s not the case at all. I’m just… concerned. I’m worried about him and I’m not sure that I’d be very good company if I spent the whole night wondering if he’s alright.”

 _“I get it,”_ Jasper replies, sounding like he’s reclaimed some of his sure footing. _“Do you mind if I throw an idea out there?”_

“Go ahead,” Jemma answers.

 _“What if instead of taking you out, I come over and cook?”_ he proposes. _“It doesn’t have to be a date, just the three of us hanging out.”_

“I wouldn’t want you to go out of your way like that,” Jemma answers.

 _“It’s not going out of my way. I enjoy cooking for other people and it’s been a while since I’ve had the opportunity,”_ Jasper informs her. _“Or you could always both come to my place.”_

Jemma gives the matter some thought. Is the apartment in any condition to be receiving guests? Are there still mugs sitting in the sink, laundry that needs attending to, carpets that ought to be vacuumed? Typically if she’s having company she likes to know in advance. Well in advance. A week in advance, at least. She doesn’t want to pass up the best opportunity she’s had in months to spend time with him, but she can’t very well leave Leo like this. It seems like too much to ask for Jasper to come to them, and yet she’s certain if she asks Leo to join her in going to Jasper, he’ll refuse.

“Would it be terrible if I asked you to come here?” Jemma questions.

Jasper laughs. _“I wouldn’t suggest it if I thought it was terrible. I just didn’t want to invite myself over so I figured you might prefer coming here instead.”_

“It’s hardly what I would call inviting yourself over,” Jemma says with a shake of her head. “You don’t have to feel obligated to cook, though.”

 _“I’d like to. That is, if you’d be nice enough to allow me to make a temporary mess of your kitchen,”_ he adds.

“I’m sure we can handle a little bit of mess,” Jemma answers. “Should I consider a bottle of wine?”

 _“Wine would be nice,”_ Jasper replies.

“Any preference?”

_“For what I’ve got in mind, I’d go with Riesling.”_

“Alright, when should we expect you?”

 _“Oh, give it… an hour, an hour and a half,”_ Jasper estimates. _“I could always text you when I’m close.”_

“That would be nice,” Jemma says. “Although I would prefer if you wouldn’t text and drive.”

She hears a quick bark of a laugh on the other end of the line, a sound of genuine amusement that she finds herself smiling in response to.

 _“Okay, I promise to pull over if I plan to text you on the road,”_ Jasper swears. _“Satisfied?”_

“Very much so,” Jemma answers. “I’ll expect to hear from you soon, then.”

 _“Talk to you soon,”_ Jasper agrees.

“Bye.”

_“Bye.”_

Jemma has hardly disconnected from the call before she’s hurrying about her room. Does she need to shower? Does she have time to shower? No, no, she’d already showered today, of course. But does the apartment look decent at least? Grabbing her jacket, she hurries from her room, drawing a questioning look from Leo as eh scurries about the living room, trying to decide what, if anything, needs cleaning or putting away.

“Please don’t tell me Spring Cleaning’s come early,” Leo says with something akin to fear in his eyes.

“What? No, you know that’s not until six weeks from now, same as it is every year,” Jemma answers. She halts in the middle of the room and clears her throat. “Agent Sitwell will be joining us—“

“And you’d like me to go,” Leo guesses.

“No, I’d like you to stay. Only I’ve got to run out to pick something up and I’m uncertain if I should clean anything first,” Jemma tells him.

Leo gives her a long, searching look. “I’m sorry, I’m still a bit hung up on the fact that you want me to stay for some bizarre reason. I don’t really feel like playing the third wheel, Jemma.”

Jemma huffs in exasperation. Of course, Leo _would_ be difficult about this. She can’t tell him outright why she’d like him to stay because she knows he’ll take offense and assume that she’s babying him or pitying him. But she doesn’t have time to argue with him until he agrees to stay either.

“It’s not a date. Not exactly,” Jemma tells him. “It’s just that I don’t especially feel like going out tonight. I suppose I’m feeling a bit drained after, well…”

She makes a vague hand motion and Leo seems to catch on, his expression slipping into something more solemn. It’s not a total lie, at least; the fiasco had been exhausting. She hesitates, not quite sure how she wants to phrase what she has to say next. With a sigh, she sits on the sofa beside him.

“You and I rely on each other more than anyone else, Fitz. So I think you might likely be feeling the same when I say that I would really rather not spend any time apart for the next few days,” Jemma admits. “But having said that, what with our schedules, it’s really very rare that Jasper and I have any free time that happens to coincide with each other, so what I’m asking you is to humor me tonight, if you can, and maybe suffer through dinner and wine and perhaps a film.”

Leo folds almost instantly. She sees it in his sagging shoulders and hears it in his soft sigh. She really doesn’t want to be apart for the next few days. Leo is her support system and she is his. Whenever things have been bad, they’ve always had each other to rely on. True, they’ve had their spats over the years, but there’s a reason people call them FitzSimmons. Jemma, for all her love of science, is a firm believer in soul mates… or at the very least, some sort of approximation. (She’s not sold on the whole “souls” bit, really.) She believes that some people are just meant to be together.

Most people think of this in the romantic sense, but Jemma doesn’t see why it shouldn’t apply towards platonic relationships as well. She loves Leo, as dearly as she’s loved anyone, and in many ways, he’s closer to her than her own family. Leo is the other half of her that she could never do without. She knows he feels what she does when he leans over and pulls her into a tight hug.

“You go get whatever it is you need to get and I’ll tidy up before your beau gets here,” he declares.

“Fitz, you are absolutely _brilliant_ ,” she beams, pecking him on the cheek.

He laughs, snorting. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

She pinches the cheek she’d kissed. “Don’t embarrass me tonight, please.”

“Ow, hey! Alright, alright, I won’t embarrass you in front of your secret boyfriend,” Leo teases. He pauses before asking with a completely straight face, “Shall I call him Jasper or Mr. Agent Sitwell Sir?”

Jemma considers the face full of decorative pillow that he gets to be well-deserved.

* * *

Jasper texts that he’s about ten minutes out just as Jemma makes it back. She looks over the apartment, impressed with the job Leo had done. Piles of books and magazines have been removed from their unsteady perches atop the coffee table and the television and the fish tank. Gone are the scattered glasses in various states of fullness with sometimes questionable contents. The sink has been cleared out, the kitchen scrubbed down and the floor vacuumed.

“All those rigorous rounds of Spring Cleaning had to be good for something,” Leo comments, holding out a bucket of ice.

Jemma smiles gratefully and deposits the wine bottle before moving away to settle her other purchase on top of the television. That one’s a surprise.

“I think you’ve still got some time if you want to go… fix your hair or something,” Leo notes offhandedly.

Jemma freezes. “Why? Does my hair need fixing? Should I?”

Leo stares back at her, his mouth a rounded ‘o’ of surprise. “No, I don’t… I mean, I thought that’s what girls did. You know, fix your hair and… visit the powder room or something.”

Jemma sighs. Well, that’s better, at least. Isn’t it? Just a simple misunderstanding. All the same, she nibbles on her lower lip, running her fingers through her long, straight hair.

“In your honest opinion, do I look alright?” she asks him.

Leo clucks his tongue. “You look fine. As always. Besides, this is the fellow who was head over heels after you shot him in the chest, so I think he likes you just fine as you are.”

They both start at the sound of the buzzer. Leo looks to her with raised eyebrows.

“Well, guess it’s too late now anyway,” he says. “Unless you want me to buzz him in while you…?”

“No, no, that’s alright. It’s fine,” Jemma says, still feeling slightly self-conscious after the brief exchange. She walks over to the intercom and holds down the button. “Jasper?”

 _“It’s me,”_ he affirms.

“I’m buzzing you in,” Jemma declares, pushing the button to do so.

A few moments later, Jemma is opening the door to receive him. He’s smiling, carrying plastic bags full of groceries and Jemma smiles with him. He stops in the doorway to kiss her in greeting and Jemma takes a moment to reflect on how nice it is having someone to do that with. It’s the sort of thing she could get used to. It’s not their first kiss, no, but it’s one of only a few that they’ve had time for, so it’s still a relatively new experience for her. She breaks away and pulls him inside, shutting the door behind him, instructing him to just place his shopping wherever he’d like on the counter.

“Sir,” Leo says in greeting, tipping his head in a respectful nod.

“Off the clock, it’s just Jasper,” the senior agent replies, holding his hand out.

“Fitz, then. Or Leo, take your pick,” Leo answers, shaking his hand. He gestures to the bags. “I wasn’t aware Jemma had sent you to do the shopping.”

“Fitz,” Jemma sighs.

“I figured if I was going to cook something, it might be a good idea to make sure I had all the things to cook it with,” Jasper explains.

“I suppose,” Leo concedes. “But you realize we could have just ordered in or something.”

“Am I going to have to go through this with you, too?” Jasper asks with a smirk as he begins unloading the contents of the bags. “I’m not going to poison you, I swear. I’m not Agent Romanoff.”

“Agent Romanoff poisons people?” Leo asks, looking somewhat horrified at the notion. “ _Her_ people?”

“Gotta test her new concoctions out somehow,” Jasper answers with a shrug. “Barton was always a favorite target of hers. Well, until New York.”

“Whatever happened to Agent Barton?” Jemma asks, hanging Jasper’s coat on the hook behind the door. “There hasn’t been much mention of him since then.”

“It’s complicated,” Jasper says, looking somewhat reserved as he moves to wash his hands in the sink. “After everything that happened, Barton couldn’t really shake his guilt. It didn’t help that a lot of people blamed him for the things he’d done.”

“But that was Loki’s doing,” Jemma points out. “It’s not as though he could’ve helped the fact that he was being controlled.”

“I wish everyone could see it that way. But the fact of the matter is that a lot of people lost good friends and co-workers in that attack,” Jasper goes on to explain. “Sometimes that kind of hurt blinds you to the specifics. Barton couldn’t take it. He blamed himself for a lot of things, Phil’s death being one of them, so he requested that his contract with S.H.I.E.L.D. be terminated and Fury cut him loose.”

“Without offering any sort of support for what had been done to him?” Leo asks, helping the other agent find a cutting board and a knife. “That’s a bit cold, even by S.H.I.E.L.D. standards.”

“He does freelance work now. We stumbled on an interesting little town called on our way back from the whole Thor thing a few years back, so I told him to head back that way,” Jasper proclaims, setting some noodles in warm water. “My cousin Carlos from R&D is posted out there, so he’ll send me updates on Barton’s status when he isn’t too wrapped up in his science or that radio host he’s dating.”

The conversation detours somewhere into an impromptu cooking lesson as the three of them begin working together to make whatever it is that Jasper had in mind. (Something spicy by the looks of it.) But Jasper’s words continue to tumble through Jemma’s mind. Knowing that Agent Barton blames himself for Phil’s death, she has to wonder if Phil himself feels at all guilty for having to hide from the people who care about him. Jasper would have to lie then, too, wouldn’t he? It seems like a terrible burden the three of them are carrying and she wonders what the point of it all is. She hopes it turns out to be something worthwhile.

“So, you said you have a cousin who works for S.H.I.E.L.D.?” Jemma prods.

Jasper hums something in agreement, throwing ingredients into the wok he’d brought. “We spent so much time together as kids that we were more brothers than anything else, so it would figure we’d both end up here.”

“How exactly _did_ you end up with S.H.I.E.L.D.?” Jemma asks. “You’ve mentioned that it had something to do with Agent Coulson, but nothing beyond that.”

Jasper hesitates as he drops in another few ingredients, mixing them together thoughtfully. At last, he turns and looks to the two scientists over his shoulder.

“Alright, do you want the ‘real talk’ version or the pretty version?” he asks them.

“Real talk, please,” Leo says, raising his hand as though to cast a vote. He shrugs at the withering look Jemma shoots him. “Real talk versions are always better.”

“Real talk, then,” Jemma agrees, looking to Jasper expectantly.

“Okay, real talk then,” Jasper says, nodding to himself as he stirs the contents of the wok. “To give you a bit of background, I was raised by a single mother. My biological father was an FBI agent named Chris Amador who was, to put this politely, someone who liked to sleep around. He and my mother had a thing for a while before they moved on. When she found out she was pregnant with me, she decided not to tell him because she thought it was better than having to find out whether or not he’d even be willing to support a kid. Anyway, he died without knowing I ever existed, so the point’s pretty moot.”

Jemma watches him dump the noodles into the wok and wonders if ‘real talk’ was in fact the correct choice. Not that she doesn’t want to learn things about him, but she wonders just how personal some of this might be to him.

“Being raised by a single mom who works three jobs to make a living meant I had a lot of time on my hands. Too much time. It’s the same old cliché; kid with an absent father and an overworked mother falls into the wrong crowd. I got involved in some gang stuff. Nasty stuff. I still have the tats and I wonder why I keep them sometimes, but you can’t erase your past and that feels too much like trying. I got out, barely. You don’t usually just _get out_ of those sorts of things, but they gave an order that I couldn’t follow. Carlos was going to rat to the cops so they told me to take him out. I refused. So they beat me within an inch of my life and left me on the pavement with a couple slugs in my gut for my trouble.

“Carlos was put under protective custody by the police. They arrested the gang members for whatever charges they could pin them with while still managing to find me before I bled out. Go got off on any charges because Carlos told them I’d been shot when they found out I was going to the police. I cleaned up after that. Went to school, worked whatever odd jobs I could find, got my degree, went to police academy and became an officer for the same precinct that had arrested the gang I’d been a member of. I thought I was starting fresh, turning a new leaf and everything. For a while, I was. But it turns out precinct was as crooked as the gang I’d gotten out of.

“It was easy to fall into old habits. Accepting bribes, sweeping things under the rug. It was easier this time because I was on the right side. I was on the side of justice, so the fact that all my fellow officers not only did those things but encouraged them, meant that I couldn’t be wrong. My mother died from breast cancer when I was in my early twenties and when she was on her death bed, she made a point of telling me over and over how proud she was of me. How proud she was that I had turned my life around. After she died, I started thinking. I wondered if she’d be proud if she knew the kinds of things I really did while wearing that uniform. I came to the conclusion that she’d be pretty damn disappointed. But instead of leaving the precinct, I decided to do what Carlos had said I’d done with my old gang: I was gonna find a way to blow the whistle on every last one of them, myself included.

“I spent months trying to figure out who I could go to. I had no clue how high up the corruption reached and if I opened my mouth to the wrong person, well… accidents happen in that line of work. It just so happened that Phil and a few other agents were out in the area at one point, looking for someone. Unsurprisingly, my precinct decided to be as uncooperative as possible. I approached Phil myself and said I’d use the departments resources to help him myself, but only if he did me a favor and helped me with my own little problem. For whatever reason, he agreed. He could have just as easily proceeded with his investigation without my help, but something made him agree to my terms. S.H.I.E.L.D. found what they were looking for and Phil was good on his word. But instead of carting me off with the rest of my fellow officers, Phil made me an offer of his own. To go with him and train to be an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. I tried to explain my past to him and my involvement with the precinct, but he just repeated his offer. So I took it.”

By the point, Jemma and Leo are watching him avidly, leaning forward in their seats with eager anticipation for whatever might come next. Jasper, seemingly sensing this, takes his time as he plates the contents of the wok and turns off the stove. He looks to both of them and shrugs.

“The rest’s history,” he says. “Phil became my S.O. and I’ve stayed on the straight and narrow ever since. So… are you surprised to find I’m not exactly a boy scout?”

Jemma intends to respond with something meaningful, but the first thing that comes out of her mouth is, “You have tattoos?”

Leo groans and rolls his eyes as Jemma blushes fiercely, covering her mouth with her hand. The funny part is, as he uses pouring wine as a distraction, Jasper seems a bit pink in the cheeks as well.

“I’m really hoping you heard everything I said past that point,” he says.

“No, I did, I’m sorry I’ve just put my foot in my mouth, haven’t I? I’m sorry,” Jemma blurts.

“It’s fine,” Jasper says, laughing softly. “But, uh… that’s everything. That’s basically me, in condensed form. Think you can live with that?”

“If you’re asking whether or not I am going to judge you for a past that, up until now, I knew nothing about…” Jemma says, pulling her glass of wine towards her. “…then I can tell you that isn’t going to happen.”

Leo shrugs. “It’s not like there aren’t other agents who’ve come from… different backgrounds.”

“It’s alright. You can say it. I was a punk and a crooked cop,” Jasper says with a huff of laughter. “But thank you.”

“Thank you for being open with us,” Jemma says.

 _‘And for something that has distracted Fitz from his guilt,’_ her mind adds. It’s not as though Leo had been moping exactly, but he’d been markedly morose up until this point. With something interesting to get his mind off of the topic, he looks more like the Leo she’s used to. Perhaps that had been Jasper’s intent all along.

“So what you’re looking at on your plate is Pad Kee Mao,” Jasper explains. “Usually I’ll make it with beef, but it occurred to me that I hadn’t asked whether or not you might be vegetarian, Fitz, so I opted for tofu instead.”

“Not vegetarian, no, but thank you for the consideration,” Leo says as he takes his first bite. For a moment he sits frozen in place and Jemma wonders if maybe he’s choked on something. “This is _brilliant_.”

“When you offered to cook I honestly didn’t think… Jasper, did you go to school for this?” Jemma follows up, as impressed as Leo is.

Jasper raises his eyebrows. “No. Well, I took a few cooking classes but that was mostly to shut Phil up when I first joined S.H.I.E.L.D. He’s a foodie and—… wait, are you two telling me Phil’s never cooked for you the entire time you’ve been on the Bus?”

“No, he hasn’t. We don’t generally do that sort of thing,” Jemma answers.

“Well, tell him to get off his lazy ass and do it,” Jasper scoffs. “We used to have competitions. Every week, one of us would have to prepare a meal for the end of the week and bring it in to be judged.”

Jasper goes on to tell them what has apparently been a long, outstanding battle between Phil and himself over who had better mastery of the kitchen. It’s amusing listening to him describe the friendly rivalry and Leo more than once goads him into sharing a story about situations where it crossed the line into outrageous. Eventually they finish off their meal as well as the wine and after collectively making quick work of the tidying up, Jemma ushers both of them over to the sofa.

“Agent Coulson told me you have a soft spot for animated films, so I hope you don’t mind if I picked up one that’s an old favorite of mine,” Jemma says, holding up the DVD she’d placed on top of the television earlier.

She watches Jasper’s expression shift into something carefully neutral as he stares at the copy of _The Land Before Time_ in her hand. It occurs to her that she may have inadvertently just gotten Phil in quite a great deal of trouble, but then, Phil had been the one to tell her, so it’s his own fault.

“Love that one,” Jasper says at last.

“Excellent,” Jemma answers, popping it in the DVD player without another word.

They wind up sprawled on the sofa in their own way. Jemma leans in when Jasper curls an arm around her and settles against him, tucking her head against his shoulder. Leo sits on her other side, remaining close but giving them plenty of space. His complaints about not wishing to be the third wheel come back to her, but he doesn’t seem all that put off now. In fact, he seems more relaxed than he has in days and that in turn leads to Jemma feeling the same. She can’t find any trace of the guilt that had been plaguing her best friend since their last mission. Maybe talking about other people’s guilt for situations that were out of their control had helped eased that some. Whatever the reason, she just hopes it stays this way.

Jemma waits patiently as they watch the movie, knowing it will only be twenty minutes or so before she finds out whether or not Phil had been pulling her leg. The film progresses and as Littlefoot speaks to his dying mother, Jemma chances a glance at Jasper. He’s staring at the television, transfixed, and although he isn’t openly weeping, there is a telling shine to his dark eyes that says she’s likely the only reason he’s holding back.

She’s surprised when, without looking away from the screen, Jasper announces, “Fitz is crying.”

Leo squawks in protest, scrubbing hurriedly at his eyes as Jemma looks over at him. “Oh, that’s fine, isn’t it? Try to pin it on me so she won’t notice you’re about to as well!”

“I got misty-eyed, there’s a difference,” Jasper says.

“There really isn’t,” Leo argues. “At the end of the day, we’re both sitting here crying over a cartoon Apatosaurus.”

“It’s a very moving scene,” Jemma points out. “I don’t see that there’s any shame in crying.”

“Phil put you up to this, didn’t he?” Jasper asks.

“Well, not exactly,” Jemma answers slowly. “He mentioned that you’re guaranteed to cry when you watch this film and I wanted to see if he was telling the truth.”

“You’re a lot more devious than you look,” Jasper says. “But I probably should have guessed that when you shot me.”

“She hides it well, but I’m sure she’s the most devious out of all of us,” Leo agrees.

“That’s entirely unfair, I was just testing a theory,” Jemma says.

“By trying to make your boyfriend cry over a children’s movie,” Leo says flatly.

“And failing,” Jasper points out proudly.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Jemma says. “There’s still the bit at the end where he speaks to the cloud that he thinks is his mother.”

Both men fall silent and Jasper has that strange, carefully neutral expression back on his face.

“You see?” Leo says. “Devious.”

* * *

Perhaps he hadn’t had tears streaming down his face, but by the end of the movie, Phil’s statement had proven true. Jemma had patted his arm consolingly as he reached beneath his glasses and covered his eyes with his hand, all the while proclaiming that he wasn’t actually crying. In any case, the movie wraps up and as she’s replacing the DVD in its case, she notices it’s grown quite late. She nibbles at her lower lip as she tries to come to a decision on the matter at hand.

“You’ve got tomorrow off, haven’t you?” Jemma asks Jasper.

“I’ve got tomorrow off, yeah,” he agrees.

“It’s just that it’s a bit late…”

Jasper and Leo stare at her from the sofa. She feels her face growing red.

“…and I’d rather not worry about you driving at this time of night. So, perhaps… you could spend the night here?”

Jemma finds her gaze swiveling towards Leo along with Jasper’s.

“What? It’s not like I care,” Leo says.

“Alright,” Jasper says, giving in. “I’ve got some spare clothes in the trunk of my car. I’ll just grab those and take the couch.”

Jemma nods, but again she finds both of their gazes coming to rest on Leo. This time he throws his hands up in the air, groaning as he rolls his eyes.

“Oh for heaven’s _sake_ we’re all adults,” Leo says. “Don’t do the modesty bit just because I’m here. I’m going to bed. Whether or not you two share one is up to you. Good _night_!”

With that, he marches straight off towards his room, making a show of shutting his door behind him so they know he well and truly has gone to bed. Now alone in the living room, Jemma is left to try and decide just how they should do this.

“I really am okay with taking the couch,” Jasper tells her. “It’s not a big deal.”

“I know,” Jemma says. She takes a deep breath before letting it out slowly. “But I’d prefer it if you came to bed with me.”

She watches him closely, paying attention to his eyes. She knows her answer has pleased him and that he doesn’t want to seem _too_ pleased. But more than that, she knows he’s not going to pressure her for anything. If she just wants to sleep, she knows he’d be fine with just that. And if she wanted something more…

“I’ll just grab my things from the car,” he says, rising.

“Alright,” she answers, walking with him to the door. “I’ll wait to buzz you back in.”

Well, she’ll just see how it plays out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so... what I'd planned for this chapter happened to require a lot more words than I'd thought it would, so it's being split into two chapters. Hopefully I'll have that ready in a few days. A few things to talk about, too:
> 
> This fic WILL eventually contain spoilers for The Winter Soldier, as Jasper is in the movie and the remaining episodes of AoS are tied into it. However, that's not for another several chapters and I will make it very clear when we arrive for anyone wishing to avoid spoilers.
> 
> Secondly, how many references did you spot in this chapter? There were two that I planted in there that referenced other shows, so let's see who was diligent and picked up on them. :P


	6. Even the Sun is Jealous of the Way You Shine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma Simmons is important and Jasper's not about to let her forget it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whispers* Put the kiddos to bed because this one's a bit explicit. 
> 
> *more whispering* And it's not written well because hooooooooooooow do I write those things.

Jemma paces about her room as Jasper brushes his teeth, trying to decide if there are clothes which need to be shoved in drawers or stuffed animals which she should hide in her closet. It’s not as though he wouldn’t find those things eventually—and just why is she thinking so far into the future?—but she wants to make a good first impression. Something tells her that a man who tears up at _The Land Before Time_ likely won’t judge her for a few plush toys, but she worries all the same.

“Need some help?”

Jemma jumps, squeezing the stuffed bear in her hands so hard that she’s surprised his head doesn’t pop off. Jasper is watching her with a vague look of amusement as he leans against the doorframe.

“No, no, just… tidying up a bit, I suppose,” she admits.

“You know, you really don’t need to,” Jasper comments. “Although, having said that I can guarantee you that the first time you come to my apartment I’ll have freaked out and spent the whole day cleaning it.”

“So in essence you’re telling me not to do something you admit that you yourself would do?” Jemma presses.

Jasper opens his mouth to respond, but shuts it quickly. Jemma smiles, amused that she’d managed to catch the fast-talking agent off guard. It’s not always the easiest thing to do, but it’s almost rewarding to watch him have to think about what he wants to say when he’s so used to being able to come up with a reply without so much as a second thought.

“Yeah, I guess I did just do that,” he admits after a moment of reflection.

“If I get to see you flustered over the same thing, then that will make up for it,” Jemma says, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Looks like I’ll get a chance to make up for it then,” Jasper answers, shaking his head.

Jemma toys with the teddy bear in her hands, smoothing out the bow around his neck distractedly as Jasper watches her from the doorway. She likes the way he looks at her. It’s not like the way any of the others had. He has a way of focusing on her like she’s the only thing he sees.

“You may find it a bit ridiculous, but first impressions are very important to me,” Jemma tells him. “And oftentimes I feel as though I’m still trying to make up for my first impression with you. I’ve made some terrible first impressions, but shooting a superior and dragging his unconscious body off the side of a restricted hallway beats all the others by miles.”

“You’re not seriously still feeling guilty about that, are you?” he asks.

He doesn’t laugh, doesn’t tease her for clinging to embarrassment for so long, but he does sound surprised. It’s only natural, considering they’ve been seeing each other—well, perhaps _seeing_ is not the optimal word, but certainly interested in one another, at least—for some months now. Finally leaving the doorway, he crosses the room and sits next to her on the bed.

“Jemma, listen. You never had anything to make up for,” Jasper corrects her. “If anything, that was a good first impression.”

“I hardly see how it could have been any good at all,” Jemma argues.

“Of course it was. Because then I couldn’t get a certain gutsy biochemist out of my head for the next few days,” Jasper tells her, a smug grin falling into place. “I could’ve kissed Phil for giving you my number.”

“It’s just…” Jemma says, blowing out a frustrated sigh. “I feel like that’s always going to be there. I just wish there was some way I could erase it or go back and do it over.”

“So, let it always be there. It’ll make for a good story when people ask how we met,” Jasper says.

“I suppose there _is_ that,” Jemma concedes. She pauses. “When you say that, though… exactly how far have you planned this relationship out?”

She shouldn’t laugh, but the way he freezes like a deer caught in the headlights forces it out of her. Jemma covers his mouth with one hand as he snorts, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and making a face that’s about as close to a pout as she’s seen.

“So I maybe daydream a little sometimes,” he admits.

She waits. He rolls his eyes.

“Okay, a _lot_ sometimes,” he amends. “…you don’t?”

“I’m afraid if I told you just how far I’ve planned everything out you’d run screaming from the building,” Jemma answers.

“I guarantee you haven’t planned anything as far as I have,” Jasper challenges her.

“Oh, Agent Sitwell, I don’t believe you know who you’re dealing with,” Jemma tuts, leaning towards him.

“Well, Agent Simmons, I’m always happy for a challenge,” Jasper answers.

He chuckles just as his lips touch hers and she smiles at the sensation, smiles at the fact that she can feel it as well as she hears it. There’s something to be said of these slow, languid kisses when she’s so used to the hurried affair of trying to catch a minute alone between each of their schedules. It’s not easy. More than once she’s gotten a sympathetic look from Phil and more than once he’s asked Melinda to indulge him and run the checks again before they take off, just to buy her a little more time with Jasper. Melinda knows of course, but she acts like she doesn’t and will tease Phil for his paranoia in the way that only Melinda May can. For this, Jemma is thankful.

Now, though… Now there is no hurry. There is no rush to be anywhere or to meet anyone or to run off and save the day. So she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him down with her as she lies back on the bed. The new position suits him if his hum of approval is anything to go by. There’s a moment of silly, childish giggling as he attempts to kiss her from a different angle and the movement nearly knocks his glasses off his face. Jemma reaches up and removes them, kissing his forehead as she reaches over to rest them on the nightstand.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you without your glasses,” she comments.

“I don’t believe I can see you without my glasses,” Jasper replies, blinking owlishly.

“Oh! I’m sorry!” she gasps.

“No, no, Jemma it was a joke,” he answers with a laugh, planting a quick kiss on her lips. “I can see you just fine.”

“You’re such a terrible tease,” she says, slapping him playfully on the arm.

“So I’ve been told,” Jasper says.

The grin he offers her is slow and smug and so very, very suggestive. She finds that her ideas of sleep are rapidly going out the window, not that she minds so much. Jemma isn’t a prude by any means, but she does wonder if perhaps she’s taking things a bit quickly. How many times have they even been face to face? They really haven’t even had a first date yet. Shouldn’t those things come first?

There should be dates and dinners and things of that nature… right? That’s what they’re told anyway. Frankly, she’s tired of telling herself that it doesn’t count until they’ve had a ‘proper’ date. It counts. It’s all counted. All the late nights, the phone calls, the text messages, the Skype chats… Those count. Every time that she’s had him to listen to her worried babbling, every time that he’s called her just to hear her voice, those count.

She gazes up at him, brown eyes wide, expression open and wanting. It’s thrumming in her veins, quickening her heart and her breath as she dares to ask for what’s on her mind.

“Jasper, I want… what I mean is, can we…?” she asks softly.

Jemma is startled by the sudden look of embarrassment on his face.

“Believe me when I say I would love to more than anything right now,” he tells her. “But as prepared as I like to try to be, I’m actually not the kind of guy that carries a condom around in my wallet ‘just in case’ so unless you’ve got something…”

“O-Oh, I hadn’t thought of that,” Jemma admits, kicking herself inwardly. How could she have been so stupid? Of course they’re not going to do this without protection. And now she’d probably just offended him by accidentally implying—

“Please, please don’t feel bad for asking,” he implores her. “I’m serious, Jemma, you’re…”

He looks down at her as he lies propped up on his elbows, dark eyes boring into her with an intensity that is nevertheless quite tender. There is a genuine fondness in the way he looks at her, something more than just simple attraction. Balancing himself on one arm, he cups the side of her face in his hand, gently running his thumb along her jawline.

“You’re important. You’re so important and I want to do this right,” he says, his tone at that quiet, intimate volume that implies that he’s imparting some great and terrible secret to her. “I’ve fucked up a lot of things in my life; I’ve told you some of them tonight. But I’m not going to add this to that list. You deserve the best and I’ve got no clue if I can ever give you anything close to that… but I’m going to try my damnedest. Okay?”

Jemma can feel her heart thudding in her chest like it’s looking to jump straight out. Does he know that she wants these things for him as well? Does he know that he’s brightened her life in a way she was never expecting? And just how can he think he is anything but perfect to her when he’s so brave and kind and intelligent and all the things she’d never hoped to find in one person? How is it that he can be all those things, how is it that he can make her laugh and make her feel wanted, and still doubt that he means the world to her?

“Jasper Sitwell, you are a very, very silly man,” she says. “Whom I would very much like to kiss again.”

He raises his eyebrows in surprise, but instead of refuting her, he just shakes his head with a soft huff of laughter and says, “I think I can manage that.”

She doesn’t feel so bad about expressing her desires anymore. Not when every action of his seems to scream: _I want you_. No, they will not be having sex tonight, but that doesn’t mean they have to turn in for the night either. She encourages him, arching up against him as his hand slips beneath her shirt, finding bare skin. His touch is light, exploratory, his fingertips ghosting along her ribcage as though he’s committing every inch of skin to memory.

Jemma sighs into their kiss as he cups her breast, fondling gently. Her hands flutter from one spot to another, never resting for too long, desperate to touch him and be touched by him. She knows she surprises him when she pushes forward and takes control of the kiss away from him, but he’s far from complaining, it seems. That is, until he decides his mouth could be put to better use elsewhere. A jolt of disappointment runs through her as he withdraws, but that quickly dissipates as he hikes up the hem of her shirt and begins planting a trail of kisses up her abdomen.

Her heart is beating so loudly, she’s almost sure he can hear it, and while his lips have been traveling upward, his hand has been steadily moving downward. He reaches the waistband of her pajama bottoms and hooks a finger in them, tugging just enough to get her attention.

“Whenever you want me to stop, just say the word,” Jasper says.

He doesn’t want to stop, she knows that. She can see it in dark eyes gone even darker with arousal. But he will. Whenever she wants, if she wants, he will. The thing is that she’s sure that if he stops now, she’ll lose her mind. She tells him as much and he laughs, soft puffs of air tickling her skin at the action.

He returns to his previous activities, slipping a hand beneath the waistband of her pajama bottoms. He massages her slowly over her panties, applying pressure now and again and making her squirm in anticipation. She grips his shoulders tightly as he kisses her breasts before taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking, his tongue prodding and teasing as he does so.

The tingling warmth of arousal pools low in her belly and she wonders when he’ll provide her with an opportunity to return the favor. The thought flies out of her mind the second his hand slides beneath her panties. Her breath hitches as he touches her at last without a barrier between them. Biting on her lower lip, she parts her legs a fraction wider as he presses a finger inside her. It’s been a long, long time since she’s even had this sort of contact, and perhaps it’s a bit telling that she’s this wet already, but she can’t bother with wasting too much time on the thought.

It seems like no time at all before he’s thrusting two fingers inside her, his thumb rubbing small, tight circles on her clit. She trembles, whimpering as her hips follow the motion he’s set and she does her best not to make any noise. There’s still Leo to consider and while it’s true that he’s across the hall and he had proclaimed them both adults who could do whatever they liked, she doesn’t really want to have to subject him to hearing anything he wouldn’t _want_ to hear.

Jemma can feel that knot slowly but surely forming at her core, winding tighter and tighter as each moment passes. Jasper is patient, working her towards her climax with the sort of diligence that could be called admirable. She thinks of telling him that she’s close, but having to open her mouth now might be disastrous. For whatever reason, he chooses that very moment to make eye contact and she just _knows_ that he knows. She sure of it when he suddenly doubles his efforts, thrusting his fingers faster than before but without sacrificing any of the care he’d placed in the action and he presses on her clit and curls his fingers just so and—

Jemma presses a hand to her mouth as release comes crashing over her like a great ocean wave. She’d meant to stifle any noise, but her whimper had emerged as something more like a squeak because of it as her whole body felt like it was contracting before suddenly relaxing. Pleasure ebbs out from her core, rippling through her entire body, from her head to her toes. Jasper slows his ministrations, coasting her through it, aiding her in riding it to the finish. She sighs breathily when at last he draws away, leaving her shivering pleasurably and feeling absolutely boneless.

“Christ, you’re even cute when you come,” he says, kissing her nose.

“Oh, _don’t_ ,” Jemma pleads, hiding her bright red face behind her hands.

“I’m serious,” Jasper says, tugging her shirt back down and kissing her neck. “Everything about you is cute.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I would swear that you’re attempting to embarrass me to death,” Jemma says, propping herself up on her elbows as she tries to catch her breath.

“I’m just calling it like I see it,” Jasper says with a grin.

The smirk is wiped off his face the second she shifts her leg, deliberately moving so that her thigh is pressed between his legs. He curses softly before shaking his head.

“Oh, so you’re playing dirty?” he asks.

“You seem surprised,” Jemma says, leaning over to pull one of the drawers in her nightstand open.

“It’s just that, when Fitz said you were secretly devious, I guess this isn’t what I had in mind,” Jasper admits. He raises an eyebrow. “What are you looking for?”

Jemma rummages for another moment before she holds up a small bottle triumphantly. “Well, I thought it might be a tad uncomfortable for you without a little lubrication.”

She sees the way he looks at her, like he hadn’t really been expecting her to reciprocate—or to have a bottle of lubricant lying around—and heaves a sigh. Really, has she been giving that impression? She’s shy at times, yes, and there’s something to be said about her level of self-confidence, but honestly!

“I’m not a blushing virgin, Jasper,” Jemma says. “I’ve touched a man before, I know what I’m doing.”

“You _are_ blushing, though,” Jasper points out.

She pinches his cheek. “Shush.”

“Ow,” Jasper says, pouting. “Mean.”

“Such a baby, you are,” Jemma says with a laugh, leaning in to kiss him.

He murmurs something in the negative against her lips before she shuts him up in the most effective manner readily available. She doesn’t get straight down to business, but rather takes the time to explore his body as he’d done hers. Her hands wander, over fabric and beneath it, tracing harsh angles and muscle. Unexpectedly, he tenses when she nears his stomach. It’s just a slight change in demeanor, not quite a flinch, but noticeable all the same. She halts her progress, unsure of why his behavior has changed, until she remembers the story Jasper had told them earlier in the evening. He’d been shot in the stomach, hadn’t he?

“It’s alright,” he breathes against her lips.

Jemma wonders if he’s saying it for her or for himself.

“Sometimes I get a little self-conscious. About the scars. And the tattoos. People see them and they ask questions,” Jasper murmurs. “I know I told you tonight, but it’s just a reflex. I’ll work on it.”

“You’re always very quick to reassure me that if there’s something you’re doing which I don’t want that you’ll stop it,” Jemma answers. “Do you think I would behave any differently?”

He pulls away from her, blowing out a clearly frustrated breath and running a hand over his head. It bothers her that he feels embarrassed by the whole thing or that he feels he should somehow be immune to feeling these sorts of things. He groans as he presses his hands to his face and quickly begins muttering in something which sounds like Spanish, but is spoken so fast and with such agitation that she can’t say for certain.

“Sorry. Sorry,” he apologizes, lowering his hands. “Sometimes when I’m…”

Jasper makes a vague sort of hand motion, looking more than a little annoyed with himself. She understands what he’s trying to say well enough. When he’s nervous he speaks another language to avoid having to actually tell anyone what’s wrong.

“Usually it’s not a problem,” he says, trying to force the words out slowly. “Usually I don’t care. If people see, they see. Whatever they think, they think. If they talk, they talk. It doesn’t matter, I’ve got thicker skin than that. But the thing is, _you_ matter. What you see matters and what you think matters and what you say matters.”

“I don’t care,” Jemma says firmly.

Jasper looks somewhat startled by the declaration and she realizes how it must have sounded.

“Oh, no. No, not that, I meant… I do care about how you’re feeling now. I care about that,” she assures him. “I meant that I don’t care about whoever you used to be. I care about who you are _now_. And who you are now is… a good man that I care for very deeply. That’s all that matters to me.”

“You’re not even the slightest bit worried?” Jasper asks. “Not concerned that the man I used to be might be the man I’ll always be?”

“I’ll admit, when you told us… it had crossed my mind,” Jemma tells him. “But people change.”

“Do they?” he asks, watching her carefully for a response.

“ _Yes_ ,” Jemma says emphatically. “And I believe you have. I think you believe you have, too, but maybe… maybe the idea of being in a relationship with someone you care for makes you worry that it might not be true.”

She can see clearly that she’s hit the nail on the head. Over the months, she’s come to know Jasper as being sure-footed and confident, but even Phil had said some time ago that Jasper’s been about as nervous about this relationship business as she has. Apparently he just does a better job of hiding it. Still, as awful as she feels about the whole thing, it’s nice to know he has his insecurities, too. It makes her feel as though they’re on more level footing.

“You know, why don’t we just get some sleep,” Jasper suggests.

“You’re sure? You don’t want me to, ehm…” Jemma says, her sentence trailing off as she holds up the bottle in her hand uncertainly.

Jasper actually grins at that and shakes his head. “No, I, uh… think I’ve done a pretty good job of killing the mood. But thank you.”

“Alright,” Jemma says, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “I’m just going to use the bathroom.”

She does so, dropping her panties in the laundry bin and stepping into a new pair before returning to her room. Jasper hasn’t moved and she finds him still sitting on the edge of the bed, hands folded in his lap. Jemma sits beside him and places a hand on his arm.

“Do you prefer to be the big spoon or the little spoon?” she asks.

If he’d been preoccupied with unpleasant thoughts, that comes to an end with her question. He smiles, laughs and looks to her with an expression of mock seriousness.

“What about the about-your-height-but-heavier-than-you spoon?” he asks.

“What about the sofa in the living room?” Jemma asks sweetly.

“You’re terrible,” Jasper says. “I don’t know why I ever thought you were nice.”

“Devious, remember?”

“I’m not about to forget it after tonight.”

They continue to casually flirt as they find their way under the bed sheets and turn out the light, only to teasingly whisper back and forth under cover of darkness. Their pillow talk ranges from who was the best Bond to upcoming assignments to what should be done about breakfast the next morning. It hasn’t been the most conventional of dates, to be sure, but Jemma’s fairly certain that talking each other to sleep is one of the best ways she’s ended one in quite some time.

* * *

Jemma doesn’t consider herself the kind of light sleeper that someone like, oh, say, Melinda May is. She doesn’t know that she’ll wake to the sound of a pin dropping or dust settling and be poised and ready for action. But she will wake to change of a more noticeable variety.

She comes to slowly, to the sensation of a lingering warmth where someone else had lain not long ago. Blearily, she sits up and rubs her eyes, her gaze travelling first to the spot Jasper had previously occupied and next to the clock, which reads 3:41 a.m. At first she considers simply going back to sleep, thinking that he must have needed to use the bathroom, but after lying back down and waiting (and waiting and waiting) she decides that a little investigating is in order.

Stepping into her slippers and tugging her robe on, she shuffles out of her room and into the hall. The bathroom is dark (apart from the night light) and empty, so she continues on to the living room. Even half-asleep, she can sense that something is off. Jasper is on his phone, his back turned to her, his posture stiff and all-business.

“I’m just saying that it might do some good if I get in well enough with them,” Jasper says quietly into the phone. “I’m already making headway in that department.”

That’s all he says before he stills, goes even stiller than before if that’s possible, and turns on the spot with military precision. There’s a moment when he sees her that Jemma thinks she sees something in his face—something akin to horror or fear, or perhaps both—before his expression shifts back to something more neutral. He mouths the word ‘work’ at her while pointing at his cell phone with his free hand.

She mouths a quick ‘sorry’ before hiking a thumb over her shoulder, indicating that she’ll be waiting for him when he’s finished whatever sort of business it is he’s conducting. At his affirmative nod, she retreats back to her room and crawls back into bed.

The clock tells her it’s another half hour later that he slips back in behind her and she drowsily moves to make room for him.

“Sorry I woke you. Had to take that,” he whispers, kissing her shoulder.

“You’re supposed to have a few days off,” Jemma whispers back.

“You know we don’t ever _really_ have days off,” he reminds her.

She concedes the point with a hum of acknowledgement, but can’t allow herself to go back to sleep just yet. Not when she can feel how tense he is. She shifts, rolling over just enough so that she can look him in the eye.

“Has something happened?” Jemma asks.

“No, it’s just about an assignment,” he answers. “It’s not a big deal.”

“You’re lying,” she says. “Something’s bothering you.”

“Jemma…”

“I wish you would talk to me,” Jemma says. “I’m not asking for specifics; I know our difference in security clearance means that’s not possible. But something’s troubling you and I really do wish you would just talk to me instead of letting it eat away at you.”

He doesn’t answer straight away and usually she’s not the sort to be pushy about this sort of thing, but this isn’t exactly the first time she’s noticed this behavior from him, is it? On more than one occasion, she’s received a phone call from him or has called him following what he’ll only describe to her as a ‘bad day’ or a ‘rough assignment.’ It’s gotten to the point where she wonders just what sorts of things S.H.I.E.L.D. could be sending him out to do and why it sometimes seems so taxing.

“Not right now,” Jasper tells her. “But tomorrow. Before I leave tomorrow, we’ll talk.”

“You swear.”

“I swear. Honestly.”

“I’m not allowing you leave until we do.”

He snorts.

“Well, I’m sorry, you’re just worrying me, is all,” Jemma says defensively.

“No, no, you’re right, I’m sorry,” Jasper apologizes. “I promise we’ll talk. But for now can we just go back to sleep?”

“Of course.”

She waits for him to fall asleep first. It takes a great deal longer than she thought it would. Whatever had been said during that phone call, it’s left Jasper uneasy. He remains tense for the longest time, as though he’s waiting for something to happen. Eventually, though, he relaxes and eases back into sleep. Jemma listens to deep, even breaths, counting each one as her mind comes up with question after question.

Thankfully, her tired mind decides to shut that particular operation down before she gets herself wound up enough to force a bout of insomnia. With a soft sigh, she huddles further under the blankets and puts the impending conversation as far from her mind as possible.

It can wait until morning.

* * *

Breakfast is an interesting affair. Jemma can honestly say she never knew Leo was so opinionated about eggs or that Jasper would consider it a challenge. Now, though, after all is said and done, she finds herself in the hallway outside their apartment, waiting for whatever conversation she’d been promised. Jasper doesn’t seem too happy to give it to her, but rather resigned to the task as though it’s something that simply must be done. And it must be.

“Whatever I tell you now, it won’t make sense until later,” Jasper begins, his voice quiet. “But I promise you, one day, it’ll all make sense.”

Jemma stays quiet, giving him the floor.

“Some of the things I’m doing, some of the things I’ve been up to, it’s not pretty,” Jasper admits. “People like you, like Fitz, like Phil, you’re not meant for this kind of work. I am. I can’t tell you or anyone else what that work entails, but I can tell you that it means something. It’s important. It’s not easy, but it’s necessary.”

He shakes his head.

“I can’t tell you what or how or when, but not so very far from now, things are going to change. There are going to be changes of the most drastic kind imaginable,” Jasper tells her. “And when the time for that comes…”

“When it comes…?” Jemma prompts.

“I need you to trust me,” Jasper says resolutely. “And if you can’t trust me, trust Phil.”

“Of course I trust you,” Jemma says with a small frown. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Jasper hesitates. “Remember that.”

“You’re not making much sense,” Jemma says, sighing softly.

“Like I said, it won’t make sense until later,” Jasper admits.

“And when will ‘later’ be?” she asks.

“You’ll know,” Jasper sighs. “Believe me, you’ll know.”

They stand in silence for a time. He’d spoken cryptically enough so that Jemma really was left with more questions than answers, but at the very least she supposed he hadn’t tried to cut and run without speaking to her first. She’s worried, though. The way he’s talking is… strange.

“Are you alright?” she wants to know.

“I’m alright,” Jasper says, almost convincingly enough to make her believe him. “Are you alright?”

“I’m alright,” Jemma answers.

She tugs him forward for a quick embrace and he catches her lips in a not-quite-as-quick kiss before he pulls away. “Call me, huh?”

“I will,” Jemma promises. “Text me to let me know you’ve made it home safely.”

Her natural concern works a smile out of him, and for the time being, whatever uneasiness had settled over him seems to disappear. Assuring her that he’ll do so, he disappears down the hall and out the door. Jemma lingers, watching the spot where he’d last been.

Something isn’t right. She knows that. But for the time being, without anything further to go on, she’ll do as she promised.

After all, she trusts him.


	7. Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma thought that saving Skye was the hard part, but after all is said and done, she finds it's not the last of her worries.

Jemma is torn between weeping in relief and stubbornly putting her foot down while refusing to move when Phil comes to relieve her of her post. As exhausted as she is, she immediately begins throwing up excuses as to why she can’t leave Skye’s side—just because it looks like the drug had saved her didn’t mean they were out of the woods yet. But Phil won’t have any of it.

“You said it yourself, she’s stabilizing and recovering,” Phil says. “You’ve done all the heavy lifting, you got her through the worst of it: it’s time to let some of us take over for a bit.”

“But sir, if something should happen—“

“Then I’ll page you,” Phil cuts her off. “You’re dead on your feet and with good reason. The pressure and responsibility I put on your shoulders was enormous. It’s more than I should have had to ask of you.”

Jemma’s posture straightens at that as she shrugs off some of her fatigue in some vague effort to show him that she could take it, that she _had_ taken it.

“Sir, I wouldn’t have had it any other way,” she says, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Skye is a member of our team. _And_ our friend. Giving anything less than 100% of my effort would have been unthinkable.”

At that, he graces her with a smile, reaching out to pat her shoulder in a fond, fatherly way. She’s exhausted, wrung out physically and emotionally, so she doesn’t really believe he’ll think less of her when she squeezes her eyes shut as they begin to sting and she exhales a shaky breath. Because it isn’t until right this very moment that the enormity of the situation really, truly hits her. The things she’d done, the part she’d played in keeping Skye alive only now begins to sink in.

Remembering her late night encounter months prior, she’s surprised when she’s pulled into a hug. Phil doesn’t stiffen up or flinch away from the contact as he had when she’d hugged him—but perhaps this is because he’s the one who initiated the contact. Whatever the case, she sags against him in relief, as the great weight he’d placed on her shoulders is suddenly lifted.

“I’m proud of you,” he tells her. “You saved her life, you know.”

Jemma pulls back, wiping at her eyes and shaking her head. “You did just as much.”

He’s still smiling but it’s transformed into something tight and controlled. What she’s just said has struck a nerve, she can tell. There’s something troubled in his posture, as much as he tries to hide it from her. But as trying as this has been on all of them, she figures it’s not her place to pry. She doesn’t have the energy to, anyhow.

“Like I said, you did all the heavy lifting,” he reminds her. “Now, please, go get some rest. I can watch her.”

Jemma hesitates all the same. “You’ll call for me if anything’s wrong.”

“The second I think something’s wrong, I’ll call you,” he assures her. He studies her briefly before saying, “Will you be alright walking back to your bunk?”

She realizes he’s essentially checking to make sure she won’t pass out in the halls due to exhaustion and allays his fears with a simple, “I believe I can manage, sir.”

Once she’s convinced him of this, she leaves Phil alone with Skye, intent on getting the sleep she’s missed out on over the past few days. It’s not terribly late at night, but the Bus is eerily quiet all the same. The last few days have taken a tremendous toll on all of them, in both individual and collective ways, so it’s no surprise that they all need their own time to rest and reflect. At the very least, they can breathe a sigh of relief now that Quinn has been taken off their hands and will not be seeing the light of day for a long, long time.

As she slides the door to her bunk closed and sinks gratefully onto her bed, her eye catches the flashing notification light on her cell phone. She somehow manages to summon the will to slip out of her clothes and into a fresh pair of pajamas before flopping onto her side and pressing her face to her pillow. She’s tempted—more than tempted, really—to just be done with it all and enjoy herself a well-deserved nap, but the blinking notification light on her phone won’t afford her that. Reaching out, she grapples blindly for the phone, knowing that the sooner she puts her mind at ease by relieving herself of any further duties, the sooner she can sleep.

One missed call.

One new voicemail.

Sighing softly, she presses the phone to her ear.

_“Jemma, it’s me. I, uh… look, I’ll get right to the point: I heard about Skye. And I’m sorry. There’s not much I can say right now that isn’t going to sound like absolute horse shit to you, so I just want you to know that I’m here in whatever capacity you need me to be. If you need space or you need to talk or anything… I’m here. I’ll be here. So just… let me know. Whenever. Okay? I’ll talk to you soon. Bye.”_

Of course the message is from before their off-the-books mission; Jasper couldn’t have known about that. But after the last few days, hearing his voice is every bit as welcoming as the pillow she’s lying on. As much as she’d like to speak to him, she knows consciousness will not be working in her favor for much longer and so she opts to send a quick text for the time being.

› _Skye pulled thru. Need to sleep. Ttyl._

It’s shorter than she’d like and she’s sure he’ll have more than his fair share of questions due to her brevity, but seeing as she’s hardly hit the send button before her eyes slip shut, she doesn’t suppose it will hurt.

* * *

If Jemma had expected to wake feeling refreshed, perhaps it would have been best to guess that she was expecting too much. When she pries her eyes open, with some difficulty, her body feels as though it’s made out of lead. There’s a dull pounding in her head that tells her she hasn’t had enough sleep and should likely find some aspirin and a tall glass of water. Something had woken her up, then.

As she forces herself to sit up, wishing all the while that she could just go back to sleep, she realizes what had woken her in the first place had been the Bus landing. Deciding that she may as well check on Skye while she’s awake, she steps into her shoes and runs her fingers through her hair in an attempt to make it look at least somewhat presentable. It’s as she’s doing this that there’s a knock at her door. Smoothing out the wrinkles in her clothes as best she’s able, she calls for whoever’s on the other side to come in. Leo pokes his curly head in, holding a glass of water and two aspirin aloft as he slips inside.

“Had a hunch you might be needing these,” he says.

“Thank goodness for your hunches,” she answers gratefully, accepting both. After she’s swallowed the pills and drained half the glass, she asks, “We’ve landed, then?”

Leo nods. “Picking up some supplies for Skye.”

Jemma frowns at that. “Wouldn’t it have been better to have just gone straight back to hospital?”

“Agent Coulson seems to think it would be better if Skye recovered here. With us,” Leo says, looking somewhat uncomfortable at the admission. “I told him you might disagree.”

“’Might’ is an understatement, Fitz,” Jemma says, shaking her head. “I’d like to speak with him regarding this. Is he about?”

“He’s with Skye,” Leo answers. “Hasn’t left since you went for a bit of a lie-down.”

“How is she?” Jemma asks as they begin moving together in that direction.

“She’s doing well,” Leo answers, wearing a look of pleasant surprise. “I don’t know what that GH-325 was, but whatever it was… it’s worked. Her vitals have been steadily improving over the past several hours. It’s amazing.”

“I can hardly believe it either,” Jemma admits. “I’m not one to go around crying miracle, but…”

“Certainly seems fitting, doesn’t it?” Leo finishes.

A drug capable of curing mortal wounds and reviving the dead? Fitting in the extreme. Immediately her mind starts whirring at the possibilities. Phil had been dead for five days, according to his file, before being resurrected. Skye’s wounds should have killed her—were in fact killing her—and this drug managed to save her from that fate. Not only that, she seems to be recovering at an unheard of rate. If Phil is anything to judge by, this drug could mean she’ll recover with hardly any trace of what had been done to her.

But then… Phil hadn’t wanted them to administer it to her. At the last second, he’d run in crying out for them not to. She remembers that now. In all the excitement of the day, she’d forgotten, but she remembers now. Why was that? Why had he so suddenly changed his mind? This and a hundred other questions bounce through her tired mind and she shelves them, waiting for a better time to explore each of them.

“I’ll leave you to it then?” Leo questions as they arrive at their destination. “I promised Ward I’d help him load the supplies.”

“Yes, alright,” Jemma says, touching a hand to his arm affectionately. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

Leo nods, ducking out as Jemma makes her way into the pod. Phil turns in his seat, his eyes telling her he’s surprised to see her. Skye doesn’t wake, which is probably for the best; this is a conversation Jemma would rather keep between herself and Phil for the moment. Pumping the lever of the hand sanitizer dispenser at the door twice, she walks in and offers the older agent a clinical smile, rubbing her hands until the sanitizer has dissolved.

“I’d thought you’d want to sleep a little longer,” Phil says quietly. “Are you sure you rested enough?”

“Well, what with the Bus landing, couldn’t very well sleep through it, could I?” Jemma answers just as quietly. She clasps her hands in front of her, facing him as he sits expectantly before her. “I understand that you haven’t made plans to make a return trip to our medical facilities.”

Phil opens his mouth to respond, seems to think better of it and instead lets out a heavy sigh. “Let’s talk about this. Have a seat, please.”

“I’d prefer to stand, if you don’t mind, sir,” Jemma says.

“Fair enough,” Phil says. “I take it Fitz was the one who told you that I preferred that Skye recover here with us?”

Jemma feels herself deflate somewhat. She’d been so confident coming in here, but she has no desire to see Leo get in trouble for simply talking this over with her. The thing is, she hasn’t exactly gotten any better at lying on the spot. Phil seems to read this in her indecisive silence and holds his hands up peaceably.

“It’s alright; I already know. No one’s in trouble,” he assures her. “Jemma, I have no plans to keep Skye from whatever medical attention she needs, please understand that. If you think that what’s best for her is to take her to the nearest medical facility, then I’ll have May fire up the plane right now, no questions asked.”

Jemma pauses. She mulls over everything that’s happened in the past few days, mulls over Skye’s condition. As she thinks, she begins checking the other woman’s vitals. Phil rises from his seat, clearing the space for her. As Jemma looks, she finds that Skye appears to be doing even better than she had before she’d had her little nap.

“In my opinion, sir, whatever GH-325 was, it’s done enough so that Skye no longer need be categorized as being in critical condition,” Jemma says slowly. “At this point in time, given her rapid rate of recovery and the resources available to us, if you would prefer that she remain here under my care, then it could be done. That being said… I would feel  more comfortable if Skye was at least examined by a proper physician first.”

Phil stands against the wall, arms folded over his chest as he nods thoughtfully. “If you think it’s in her best interest, then it’ll be done.”

Jemma takes a step towards him. “Before we do anything, perhaps you could explain your reluctance in this matter to me.”

“As I said, I would never do anything to deprive Skye of the care she needs. And the same goes for everyone on this team,” Phil says turning a serious eye on her. He hesitates a fraction of a moment, as though weighing what he has to say in his mind before delivering it. “If I seem reluctant in that regard, it’s simply because when it comes right down to it, S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn’t there when we needed them. And it’s not that they couldn’t do anything; it’s that they refused to do anything. That doesn’t sit well with me. Not at all. I trust you and your opinion here. If Skye requires a doctor, then we’ll take her to one, but they won’t be one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s.”

Jemma studies him carefully, glancing at Skye now and again. She remembers the anxious period spent in the waiting room while the surgeons worked on Skye, remembers her own fears and dread and worry. But there had been a reason they’d gone off on what could have been a wild goose chase, looking for a way to save her. Phil had reached out for help and was met with silence. She remembers the look of anger, of frustration and how it had manifested in his brief outburst of slamming his phone to the table before it had morphed into a cool resignation.

S.H.I.E.L.D. is a family to many of them and a home to even more. It’s a support network. So finding themselves without support had been, well, hurtful. Jasper’s words about coming change suddenly come back to her and she finds herself coming to understand Phil’s thought process. The man is living proof that their medical capabilities are advanced enough to literally raise the dead, so to think that they couldn’t use those capabilities to prevent someone from dying seems unthinkable. The fact that they _wouldn’t_ use them seems cruel. She straightens her posture and clears her throat, looking to him with a determined gleam in her eye.

“If Skye is to remain here with us, then I expect full authority to do whatever I deem necessary to ensure my patient makes a full recovery,” Jemma says briskly. “That would mean that my status as her doctor would override your authority as senior agent in the case of decisions regarding her medical treatment and wellbeing. If you can agree to those terms, then I believe I will be fully capable of handling Skye’s treatment without the need for outside intervention, sir.”

“I can agree to those terms,” Phil assures her. “You’re sure you can handle it?”

“Quite sure, sure,” Jemma responds with a nod.

“I’ve asked a lot of you recently and I know I’m standing here asking for more, but you should know that I never ask for something that I don’t think someone’s capable of doing,” Phil says slowly. “All the same, I’m sorry that I have to ask in the first place.”

Jemma shakes her head. “I wouldn’t offer to do it if I wasn’t sure I could.”

“Well, _offer_ isn’t exactly the word I’d use. You kind of just _told_ me you were doing it,” Phil says, his tone shifting to something more lighthearted. “I felt intimidated.”

“As well you should,” Jemma says, placing her hands on her hips. “I am not to be crossed when it comes to a patient under my care.”

“I’ll warn the others.”

“No need to warn Fitz. He knows from experience.”

“Then I’ll just tell him he has my sympathies.”

They smile at one another and she feels they’ve reached a certain, unspoken understanding. There is another conversation that needs to happen between them, but she knows it will have to come later. For now, Skye is their priority and that is what they’ll be focusing on. She starts when her phone begins vibrating in her back pocket and fumbles to retrieve it, shooting Phil an apologetic look. He waves her off, taking his seat once more.

“Why don’t you take that and try to get a little more rest after?” he suggests.

“I’m sure it can wait,” she says, even as the phone buzzes in her hand. “I really should just stay here—“

“You were only out three hours,” Phil argues. “Go on and get yourself a proper night’s sleep.”

Jemma agrees, if only because she knows she needs it and if she’s to take care of Skye, then she should be at her best. Right now, she’s very far from it. So she retreats from the medpod, leaving Phil to continue his vigil, and picks up her insistently buzzing phone just before the call can go to voicemail.

_“Jemma?”_

“Hi,” Jemma exhales, the greeting coming out in a slow sigh. “How are you?”

_“I think that’s probably a question I should be asking you,”_ Jasper tells her.

“I’m…” Jemma says, letting the sentence peter out. She’d been about to tell him that she was fine, but that’s not exactly true, is it? She rubs a hand over her eyes and massages her temple. “Well, I suppose I’m just tired. Worried.”

_“From that text you sent, I kind of guessed. I thought there wasn’t anything else they could do for Skye,”_ Jasper says.

“There wasn’t anything else conventional medicine could do for her,” Jemma says in agreement as she reaches her bunk.

There’s a pause on the other end of the line as she steps inside and closes the door behind her. In the quiet of the room, she can hear him breathing and wonders what’s going through his head.

_“What happened?”_ he asks her.

Well, if that isn’t a loaded question. She wonders how much she can really say here. It’s a problem they’ve run into before and one of the many hazards of dating a fellow agent; sometimes there are things you just can’t tell each other. This may just be one of those things. She knows there’s a strong line of trust between Jasper and Phil, but is it strong enough to bear the weight of something like this? She herself trusts Jasper, but the things they’re dealing with… this is the usual secret you ask your boyfriend to keep.

“Before I say anything, I need to know that it’s not going to go anywhere,” Jemma says, lying back on her bed. “I need you to promise me you’ll keep it to yourself.”

_“If this is something I shouldn’t be hearing…”_

“No, I think I’ll feel better after I’ve talked to you about it,” Jemma says. “I just… need to be sure, that’s all.”

_“You know that anything we talk about doesn’t get repeated,”_ Jasper reminds her. _“If you want it to stay between you and I, all you have to do is ask.”_

Jemma takes a breath and nods her head, only to remember that he can’t see her.

“When they told us there wasn’t anything more they could do for Skye, that the best they could do was make her comfortable… Agent Coulson tried reaching out to anyone he could, including Director Fury,” Jemma says. “No one answered.”

_“I’m guessing this doesn’t end with all of you waiting around and Skye making a miraculous recovery?”_ Jasper says.

“No. Instead we took Skye with us and Agent Coulson had Fitz and I review his files,” Jemma says. “The one that Director Fury had denied him access from. The one detailing his death and recovery.”

_“Shit,”_ Jasper breathes quietly. _“Do you even have the clearance level to be looking at something like that?”_

“No, we don’t. But given the situation, Agent Coulson gave us permission,” Jemma relates back.

_“And you found something.”_

“Yes,” Jemma answers. She rolls on her side, phone pressed to her ear as she curls up. “How much do you know about what’s in that file?”

_“Nothing, really. All I know is what they debriefed us on; that Phil had been dead a short period of time, that they’d managed to resuscitate him and that he’d recovered in Tahiti,”_ Jasper reports.

“He was dead for five days,” Jemma corrects him.

There’s silence, followed by a disbelieving snort of laughter.

_“You’re joking, right?”_

Jemma sighs.

_“You’re not joking,”_ Jasper says flatly. _“How is that even possible? It’s not possible.”_

“Apparently it is,” Jemma says. “And what we saw in his file lead us to try to retrieve a… serum. Something that we couldn’t identify that we thought might have been the key to what brought him back. This serum, after it was administered, Agent Coulson’s body showed signs of tissue repair and regeneration within minutes. And if we had that, we thought if it was strong enough to raise the dead, then it might be what we needed to save Skye.”

_“And you’re telling me you managed to find this serum? Whatever it was?”_ Jasper questions. She can practically hear the frown in his voice. _“Something like that, it’d be under pretty heavy lock and key. You managed to take it from underneath S.H.I.E.L.D.’s nose without them noticing?”_

“Not exactly,” Jemma admits. “This wasn’t a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility.”

Jasper goes silent again. It’s a lot to take in, she knows. If she’s being honest, she’s still digesting it herself. The implications are… not good. Combined with Jasper’s prior warning of change, it unsettles her stomach to wonder what these things might mean. For all of them, for S.H.I.E.L.D., for the future. She knows it’s a question weighing heavily on Phil’s mind, and now on Jasper’s as well.

_“I think that’s all I need to know,”_ Jasper says slowly. _“I think that for now, it’s better off if you don’t give me any more specifics.”_

“Alright,” Jemma answers quietly.

_“Hey,”_ he says, his tone going soft. _“You okay over there?”_

“I’m worried,” Jemma confesses. “About everything. About what you said is coming. I just feel like there’s this great big… _something_ on the horizon and we’re not going to be prepared when it finally comes.”

_“I’m sorry. I know I was about as vague in that regard as I could possibly be,”_ Jasper apologizes. _“But I’m doing everything I can to make sure that you **are** prepared. The things I’m doing right now, that I can’t talk about? That’s what this is for.”_

“But are we doing the right thing?” Jemma has to ask, closing her eyes. “Are we moving in the right direction?”

_“I don’t know. I don’t know if any of us are doing the right thing,”_ Jasper sighs. _“And after this… I really don’t know. But I know this: I trust you and I trust Phil. I trust that your team will do the right thing when the time comes.”_

“I like to think that we will,” Jemma says. She opens her eyes and stares at the clock on her bedside table, ticking away the minutes. “Jasper, when you said it was better if you didn’t know specifics… is it because of the work you’re doing?”

_“Yes,”_ he confirms. He doesn’t elaborate.

“Are you safe?” she has to wonder.

_“This isn’t about safety, Jemma, it’s about—“_

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” she blurts. “And especially not because of me.”

_“I’m being as careful as I can. But some things, they’re bigger than we are. Some of them are even worth giving your life for,”_ Jasper tells her. _“Sometimes it’s the sort of thing I’m doing, sometimes you jump out of a plane to save your team.”_

Jemma feels her cheeks go pink. Sometimes she manages to forget about that, that thing she’d tried to do. Because it had been foolish and if put in the same situation, she’d probably do it again, if she’s being completely honest. What they’re discussing now is the reason that she treasures their ‘family game night’ on the Bus. It’s the reason she fights. Because these are the people she loves and she will do absolutely everything she can to make sure they’re safe, to make sure there are more happy memories, even if it means giving her own life. The thing is, it’s a mentality they all share, which means losing one of them isn’t such an outlandish possibility.

_“The point is, we can’t know how things will turn out. All we can do is our very best and hope that it means something in the end,”_ Jasper continues on. _“You do your best to protect the things you love. You’re one of those things for me. And maybe this isn’t the best time to say it for the first time, but I do. Love you, I mean. I just wanted you to know that.”_

Jemma feels her heart swell at the words. They surround her like a safety blanket, keeping the worries of the world at bay, at least for the moment.

“I love you, too,” she answers.

_“Yeah?”_

His response pulls a quick laugh from her. He’d sounded bolstered by the fact that she’d said it too, like he’d been uncertain that she would. It’s something that she’s been considering for some time now; there’s always the worry over when is the right time in a relationship to tell someone you love them. The question of whether or not she loves him had been easy to answer, but when to say it? There’s she’d been far less certain.

“Yes, I do. I have for quite some time now,” Jemma informs him.

_“I wish I could have said it in person,”_ Jasper says. _“It’s bad enough you have to settle for phone-dates.”_

“It’s not settling,” Jemma corrects him. “It never has been.”

They continue to a softer, lighter conversation. After an hour has gone by, she finds herself far more at ease than she’d been just a short time ago. The need for sleep makes her eyes itch and her mind fuzzy and she knows the conversation has to draw to a close soon. She feels a sudden longing for her apartment, for a rainy day and her bed and him in it. She tells him as much.

_“Soon, maybe. Maybe you can spend a night or two at my place this time,”_ he suggests. _“I’d like you to meet my buddy Andy, too. Maybe get Fitz in on it and the four of us could go out sometime.”_

“I don’t think I’ve ever met any of your friends,” Jemma says, her curiosity piqued.

So far, they’d really done everything to suit her, hadn’t they? He’s only been to her apartment, met her friends. Not that they’ve had time for much else, but still it makes her realize that there’s a side to him she hasn’t seen yet. Has he even mentioned any friends up until this point? In passing, perhaps, but they’ve never really discussed it in-depth.

_“Don’t get your hopes up, she’s an agent, too,”_ Jasper says with a laugh. _“But Andy’s… well, I guess you could say she’s my Fitz.”_

“You two are close, then,” Jemma hums.

_“She’s like family,”_ Jasper says. _“I don’t exactly have parents to take you home to, so she’s about the closest thing.”_

“Oh, should I be worried?” Jemma asks with an amused smile.

_“Only if you need to brush up on your Disney films,”_ Jasper answers, sounding equally amused. _“Once alcohol enters the equation, there are sing-a-longs. Sometimes before alcohol. Okay, I won’t lie: we look for any excuse to break out in song and embarrass ourselves in public.”_

“Looks like I’ve got some homework,” Jemma says with a light laugh. “Where would you recommend I start?”

_“Mulan. Always start with Mulan,”_ Jasper answers. _“Let me know when you’re going to watch; I can get a stream up and we can video chat on Skype and watch it together.”_

 “Mm. I hate to say it, but I’m fading fast. Can I talk to you again soon?”

_“I’ll be around.”_

“Maybe tomorrow, after I’ve slept some?”

_“I’d like that. And maybe ask Phil when he plans on letting you off that Bus.”_

“Maybe I’ll just see if we can dock somewhere close to you so you can visit?” Jemma suggests hopefully.

_“Phil’s a romantic at heart. Just give him puppy dog eyes when you ask and he’ll do it.”_

“I’ll certainly keep that in mind,” she answers. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

_“Alright. Get some rest.”_

“Love you.”

_“Love you, too.”_

“One more time?”

She gets a laugh and a soft “I love you” and decides that’s all she needs for a good night’s sleep.

* * *

Jemma studies the vitals she’d recorded from Skye, shaking her head in disbelief. Despite what she’s seen with her very own eyes, she’s still amazed at how much the other woman has recovered in just a couple of days.

“So what’s the news with you and Mr. Agent Sitwell Sir?” Skye prods, playing with her IV.

Jemma clears her throat and sets the clipboard aside. “Well, we had a lengthy conversation the night after our mission and he… well… he said the ‘L’ word.”

“Lesbians?” Skye answers brightly.

“What? No. Love. He said he loves me,” Jemma says, bewildered.

“And? Did you say it back?” Skye prods.

“Of course I said it back, don’t be silly,” Jemma scoffs.

“Look at you,” Skye says proudly. “All rosy cheeks and in lesbians. So is he going to visit soon? AC said we were docking close by.”

“In a few days, maybe,” Jemma said. “He’s a bit busy at the moment, unfortunately.”

“So what happens from here?”

“Well, I’m going to continue with a regiment of intravenous antibiotics and fluids to be sure that you’re—“

“No, no, I mean with you two,” Skye interjects hurriedly. “I mean… do you think you’ll move in together or something? And what about further down the line, if it all works out? I dunno if you’re a marriage kind of girl or if he’s a marriage kind of guy. Or _kids_ even. Wow, picture _that_ , huh?”

Even as she considers that maybe it’s time to start dialing back Skye’s pain medication, Jemma wonders. Moving in, marriage, children. How many of those are things she wants? How many of them are even possible? With their lifestyle, would something like marriage or children even be feasible? Or responsible? She suspects she won’t be flying around the world on the Bus forever, but she really has no idea what the future holds for them. 

She smiles and fluffs up Skye’s pillows and says, “I’m really not sure about any of those things. Not that I haven’t thought of them, of course, but… for now, all either of us can do is move forward and hope that we do the right thing when the time comes.”

There will be time someday for talk of these things, but for now she’s happy with what she has. She only hopes she can hold on to it. Without forgetting the clouds on the horizon, she opts to focus on the sunshine she has, while she has it.


	8. Hooked On a Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma's looking forward to a long weekend with Jasper all to herself, but before that, she has to get by dinner with his partner.

“So do you suppose you two will ever have a date without having me along?” Leo asks, leaning against the doorway.

Jemma sighs, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Presently she has a small suitcase sitting open on her bed and is in the final stages of packing it.

“Very funny,” Jemma says. “Well, Jasper’s bringing one of his female friends along. Maybe he’s setting you up.”

She watches Leo’s face go a mortified shade of red at the very idea of it. “You don’t really think that’s what this is, do you?”

“Relax, I’ve been assured it’s just a friendly night out,” Jemma assures him. She pauses a beat before innocently adding, “Although you never know, she could be very nice…”

“No, no,” Leo says throwing his hands in the air as he turns away. “This is what happens when you’ve got friends in a relationship. They’re always out to set you up with one of their single friends. I won’t have it. Not one bit.”

He continues his rant as he moves through the apartment and Jemma laughs quietly to herself. Leo has always hated being set up on dates, for as long as she’s known him. There were a few attempts made while they were at the Academy, but nothing he ever really saw through more than a handful of dates. She knows it isn’t Jasper’s intention to turn this into a double date but she and Leo can have their fun teasing each other all the same.

Tonight is simply a night out with friends, but for the next three days she’s got Jasper all to herself. Following their little Asgardian adventure, Skye had recovered sufficiently enough that Jemma could afford herself some time off. Jasper had managed to swing four days off—how exactly, she doesn’t know, and so long as she has him, she doesn’t care—and they’d made plans for her to stay at his apartment for the duration. She’s never seen where he lives before, so she’s more than a little curious as to what his living space will be like. Is he the tidy sort? Or more of the stereotypical bachelor? Somewhere in-between? Does he have family photos on the walls? On his shelves? Is there a color scheme? Is there no color scheme?

Knowing she’ll find out later tonight and that wondering now will only waste time, she finishes her packing and zips up her suitcase. Jasper will be along to pick them up soon and the last thing she wants is to be caught _still_ packing. It’s bad enough she’s debated this long over what to bring and what to leave behind, she doesn’t want him actually knowing any of that. At this stage, she knows she shouldn’t have to feel embarrassed over something so trivial, but she finds she just can’t help herself. She’s spent so much of her life anxious to make a good impression that she can’t seem to turn it off.

“ _Jemma, your beau is at the door_!”

Grabbing her bag, she walks out towards the living room, deciding Leo is getting an extra-hard pinch on the arm tonight when he least expects it. She finds Jasper and Leo chatting amiably in the doorway when she emerges and smiles as she approaches them. It’s good to see him looking so relaxed, wearing jeans and sneakers, his hands shoved into the pockets of a leather jacket and a flat cap settled on his head.

“Is he trying to ascertain whether or not you’re setting him up on a blind date?” Jemma asks as she walks over.

“Come on, I’m mean but I’m not _that_ mean,” Jasper snorts. He grins wolfishly at Leo. “Or am I?”

“I despise both of you,” Leo declares, opening the door.

“Love you, too,” Jasper calls after him as he picks up Jemma’s bag. He leans in to peck her on the cheek before saying, “Not as much as you, though.”

She smiles and turns to kiss him back, still elated at the few days ahead of them. As they lock the apartment behind them and walk down to where Jasper had parked, she considers herself lucky that he and Leo have been getting on well. It’s difficult when your friends don’t like your boyfriend, but considering Leo is much more to her than simply a friend, it’s an immense relief that he seems to approve of and even likes Jasper. She wouldn’t call them friends exactly, but they’re certainly moving in that direction. Jemma likes having all her ducks in a row and it feels like they’re starting to line themselves up rather nicely.

“So you said you know the owner of this place?” Jemma asks, once they start driving.

“Petr? Yeah, he was a contact for S.H.I.E.L.D. inside Czechoslovakia and the Czech Republic after that,” Jasper explains. “He retired and came stateside around ten years ago and started up this little place. His _obložené chlebíčky_ are the best you’ll ever eat. I mean, there shouldn’t be anything special about it, since it’s basically just an open-faced sandwich, but that guy will make you the best damn open-faced sandwich ever.”

“Popular spot for agents then, is it?” Leo asks from the backseat.

“Well,” Jasper answers, “above a certain clearance level, sure.”

“Ehm…” Leo mumbles uncertainly.

“Don’t worry, that’s only for the back room,” Jasper assures them. “We’re in the main lounge tonight.”

“So you’re not intending to get us in any trouble?” Jemma asks suspiciously.

“Oh, I fully intend to get you into trouble tonight,” Jasper says. “Just not with S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Naughty,” Jemma says with a cluck of her tongue.

“You haven’t seen anything naughty yet, believe me,” Jasper replies smugly.

“Care to demonstrate?” Jemma counters.

“Please don’t,” Leo begs from the backseat.

They take pity on the poor engineer and dial back the flirting, knowing there will be more time for that later. Instead, Jemma strikes up a conversation about what movies are currently playing or coming soon that look interesting. While the three of them excitedly chatter on about Godzilla, she notices Jasper’s right hand leave the steering wheel and reach out across the console. Without a second thought, she places her hand in his and notes that, while his eyes don’t leave the road and he doesn’t miss a beat as he speaks, she can see the slight smile that comes to his face at the action.

There’s something about the simplicity of it all; driving through the busy streets, talking about anything that comes to mind, the feeling of his hand in hers as his thumb brushes gently back and forth across her knuckles. It’s something she could get used to. She would never dream of leaving S.H.I.E.L.D., of course, but a few more days like this now and again certainly wouldn’t hurt. It’s not as though she hadn’t been warned that relationships and S.H.I.E.L.D. don’t mix, it’s just that she never thought it would be quite as bad as they said. After all, there were agents who were married, who had families, right? If it’s meant to work out then it will, won’t it?

Before long, they reach their destination; a large, old building sporting multiple businesses, shops and various other little hidden gems. Jasper manages to find a parking spot not too far from where they’re going, but just far enough for a little walk. To their surprise, Jasper doesn’t direct them to a door, but rather, a staircase.

“It’s on the lower level,” he explains with a grin.

Leo looks to her with a shrug as they follow their fellow agent down a short set of stairs, below street level, where they turn right and find themselves at a plain, wooden door. There is no sign, no identifying marks of any kind, just a door. Jasper knocks and waits.

“Is this is?” Leo asks.

“This is it,” Jasper affirms.

“But how does he stay in business?” Jemma wants to know. “I couldn’t find anything to say this was even down here.”

“You’ll find that, in most cases, the places that are truly the best don’t feel the need to advertise that fact,” Jasper says as the door swings open. “And when you’re that good, you don’t need to go looking for business: it finds _you_.”

“Much how trouble finds this one.”

Attached to the thick, Czech accent is a tall, slim man who lays his hands on Jasper’s shoulders. His hair is grey and his features worn, but he still manages to exude a welcoming aura.

“I’m beginning to see that,” Jemma says.

“Ah, so this is the girl that puts such stars in your eyes,” the man says, humming in recognition.

“Petr, this is Jemma and Leo,” Jasper says, with a shake of his head. “Guys, this is Petr.”

Introductions are made and they’re ushered inside. The interior is dimly lit, but bright enough so as not to be gloomy or dingy. It’s a full house as far as Jemma can see, but the noise level is at a comfortable murmur. It’s not a formal dining arrangement, either; there are plush sofas and chairs arranged around ornately carved wooden coffee tables, topped with candles. Hanging lanterns light the rest of the way, giving the overall atmosphere a soft, inviting feel. The clientele is about as eclectic as could be, ranging from 9-to-5-ers to college students to little old ladies. It seems everyone is welcome and happy to share the space with each other.

They’re lead to the back, where a sofa and two armchairs await them—one of the chairs being presently occupied. As they near, a young woman rises from it to meet them. She seems to be close to Jemma’s age, though quite a few inches shorter. Her hair is boyishly short and parted neatly at the side and though the lighting is dim, Jemma can see enough to guess that it’s brown.

“So this is the mysterious girlfriend you’ve been hiding from me,” she says.

“It’s not my fault Phil’s intent on flying her around the world at a moment’s notice,” Jasper retorts. “Jemma, Leo, this is Andy King. Andy, this is Jemma Simmons and Leo Fitz.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Jemma says, holding her hand out.

“The pleasure’s all mine,” Andy responds. As they shake hands, Jemma is close enough to see the other woman’s pale face is accented by heavy freckling and two blue-grey eyes which crinkle at the corners as she smiles. “It’s been a long time coming. Jasper hardly shuts up about you.”

“Oh,” Jemma says, feeling her cheeks flush.

It’s actually nice to hear. Jemma can’t say she knows much about who Jasper chooses to spend his time with, but the idea that he enjoys talking about her is gratifying. She’d hate to think she was the only one who spent her time gabbing with Skye about her boyfriend.

“All good things, don’t worry,” Andy says with a wink. She turns to Leo. “And you have my unending gratitude for saving me from the fate of the third wheel.”

“Well at least I know I’m not alone in that,” Leo says, shaking her hand. “It’s disgusting.”

“Aren’t friends in relationships the worst?” Andy agrees.

“The worst. All the flirting and the moon eyes,” Leo says, shaking his head with a serious air.

“And the texting. All those emoticons!” Andy exclaims.

“I knew bringing you here was a mistake,” Jasper says, playfully punching Andy in the arm. “And stop reading my texts.”

After their light banter, they begin to take their seats, deciding they should probably stop disturbing the other patrons. Jemma and Jasper take the sofa, leaving Leo and Andy to fill in the armchairs. They’re still perusing the menu, chatting idly all the while, when Jasper’s arm makes its way around Jemma’s shoulders. Without even a second thought, she leans into the touch as they continue to pour over the same menu, quietly discussing what’s on tap and what pairs well with it. It’s a nice feeling, being able to be out and be with him. For the first time in weeks, a sense of peace settles in her bones which is different than those brief moments she gets on the Bus, the ones that feel like the calm before the storm.

When their selections made and menus gone, they’re free to continue their conversation uninterrupted. From the get-go, Jemma can see why Jasper had described Andy to be the Fitz to his Simmons. The woman is charming and engaging, two of the qualities she so enjoys in Jasper. They feed off each other’s energy in much the same way that she and Leo do, giving their foursome a pleasant, wholesome quality.

“Jasper mentioned you two are partners?” Jemma says as the waitress arrives with their drinks.

“Mmhmm. He worked with my father before I went to the Academy, so when I was made an agent, he got saddled with being my S.O.,” Andy says with a grin. “And I guess I must’ve done alright because he didn’t complain too much when we were assigned as partners a few years later.”

“You only managed to get me shot once, which was better than some partners I’ve had,” Jasper says with a shrug of his shoulder.

“And your father works for S.H.I.E.L.D.? Anyone we’d know?” Leo asks.

Jemma knows it’s the wrong question to have asked when Jasper and Andy share a look. After a moment, Andy looks away, tracing the rim of her glass absently when she speaks.

“Ah, well, my father was killed during the Battle of New York,” she says.

“Oh,” Leo says dumbly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think—“

“No, no, you wouldn’t have known,” Andy says, waving him off with a forgiving smile. “But anyway, I’ve heard a lot about you two over the years. You’re some of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s best up-and-coming talent. Good on Coulson for snagging you when he had the chance.”

“So you, ehm, you know then. About Agent Coulson. Being alive,” Leo says.

“The perks of Level 8 clearance,” Andy says, raising her glass to Jasper.

“Amen to that,” Jasper agrees.

“But yes, I know. And like I said, he was smart to call dibs on you two before anyone else,” Andy says, leaning back in her seat.

“It’s true we’ve learned a great deal in the time we’ve spent on the Bus,” Jemma says, “but I don’t think there are many agents who would trust us in the field besides.”

Jasper snorts at that and she throws him a questioning look.

“You’re doing that thing again,” he points out. “That selling yourself short thing that you’re so good at.”

“Oh, don’t. You know Fitz and I aren’t nearly as capable in the field as other Level 5 operatives,” Jemma corrects him, sipping on a beer that tastes strongly of grapefruit.

“Most Level 5 operatives I know haven’t done half the things you two have,” Andy says. She points at Jasper. “And I’m just going off of what _he_ tells me, so I’m sure there’s even more that I haven’t heard about yet.”

“Not every operative is going to be some James Bond cutout,” Jasper adds. He grins. “Besides, I always had a real soft spot for Q.”

Jemma has to wonder how much of that is true and how much the two of them are saying it out of politeness. Of course, she knows very well how much she and Leo bring to the table in the science department, but outside of that she wishes they could offer a little more. They’re learning, it’s just happening slowly. Very slowly.

“And anyway, we’ve got enough Bond-types running around already,” Andy proclaims with a wave of her hand. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

“So don’t feel too bad about being inexperienced in the field,” Jasper says. “Some people aren’t cut out for it and some people just take time. Hell, we didn’t even know if Andy would make it as an agent.”

“Thank you, Jasper,” Andy says dryly.

“I’m guessing you fall into the ‘took time’ category, then,” Jemma says.

“Well, I almost got Jasper killed my first mission out, so I think he’ll be the first to say that I took a little more time than some,” Andy admits.

“What happened?” Jemma asks.

“I choked,” Andy says. “And I’m lucky Jasper was with me, because if he hadn’t been, then I wouldn’t be here right now.”

“Going from training exercises to the real thing can be… jarring the first time,” Jasper says, sipping his beer. “Our intel wasn’t as good as it should have been and our assignment turned out to be vastly more complicated than we’d planned for. It was the kind of op you send seasoned agents out on, not what you use to get a new agent’s feet wet.”

“I grew up with S.H.I.E.L.D. so I thought I knew it inside and out. I thought I knew better. It felt like I was being babied because of my dad and then when I was suddenly thrust into the real thing, I wasn’t ready for it,” Andy explains. “I didn’t want to kill anyone. But being in a kill or be killed situation, that wasn’t an option. Jasper took a bullet for me when I froze in the thick of it and we only just managed to escape with our lives. I lost all confidence after that. I’d nearly gotten my best friend killed and I started questioning everything I did. For a while, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to continue as an agent.”

“So what changed your mind?” Leo asks.

“Being an agent was the only thing I ever wanted to do,” Andy says. “And Jasper bullied me for weeks.”

“Because you were being an ass,” Jasper points out.

“The point is,” Andy says, smirking at Jasper, “some people are naturals, some people take time and some people aren’t made for it. And there’s nothing wrong with any of those options.”

“But if you’re really that interested in improving your efficiency in the field, why not go to Ward for help? Or May?” Jasper asks. “Ward’s training Skye, I don’t see why he wouldn’t do the same for either of you.”

“Are there any other, possibly less frightening options?” Leo wants to know as their server puts a large tray of food on the table before them.

“What about Agent Coulson?” Jemma poses.

Jasper laughs so hard, he begins choking on his drink and needs to take several moments to calm himself. “Jemma, if you think Phil’s going to go easy on you just because he’s a big softy, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“He trained you,” Jemma points out.

“Yeah, and I was miserable. He’s a hardass,” Jasper says with a grin. “I say that in the fondest way possible, but he was a nightmare.”

“Well, who trained him?” Leo asks.

“Director Fury,” Andy says.

“I suppose that makes sense, then,” Jemma admits. “It just gets passed along. Oh, but wait, Jasper you trained…”

“Yeah, and he was a hardass, too,” Andy says. “It’s the line of succession. Plus, Coulson behaved like a little shit for Fury, Jasper behaved like a little shit for Coulson and I behaved like a little shit for Jasper. Also the line of succession. I can only hope to have some little shit of my own to play hardass to one day.”

“It’s the circle of life,” Jasper hums.

“Did you warn her about the singing?”

“He warned me,” Jemma says. “I’ve come prepared.”

“We watched Mulan,” Jasper says.

“I feel like there’s something here that I’m meant to be getting that I’m not getting,” Leo says, casting a wary look at them over his sandwich.

Jemma is surprised by how well the four of them seem to click. From the very start, the conversation is easy and entertaining, so that by the time they’ve decided to call it a night she finds herself wishing they could all stay just a bit longer. She’s glad for the opportunity to have met someone who’s a part of Jasper’s life—she’s glad they they’ve gotten to that stage where they can share those sorts of things. Still, she’s got a full weekend ahead of her and it will hardly be the last time they get together. She decides to use the restroom before they head their separate ways and, not knowing where it’s located, allows Andy to direct her. When she exits the stall, she finds the other woman leaning against the sinks, hands shoved deep in the pockets of her letterman jacket.

“I’m glad you’re with him,” she says as Jemma begins washing her hands. “He’s a good guy; he deserves a nice girl like you.”

“Maybe it will sound a bit silly to say, but I’m relieved to hear you say that,” Jemma answers. “I was nervous about meeting you. You seem very important to him.”

“He’s family,” Andy says, echoing Jasper’s statement. She watches Jemma dry her hands. “You’ve probably already figured this out on your own, but it bears repeating. You don’t find many people like him. There has never been a moment when I had to question his loyalty or his friendship or his willingness to put others before himself. He’s always been there for me. After my dad died, you know… it was hard. I considered giving it all up, but he wouldn’t let me. He was there for me every step of the way. So that’s why I feel confident in saying that he will never, ever even consider doing anything less for you. Jemma, I think you’re great. I like the way he talks about you and I like the way you make him smile. So I want to thank you for being part of his life.”

“Thank you. I’m glad I am,” Jemma says warmly, surprised but pleased by the little speech. “And I hope we can get to be friends as well, you and I.”

“We’ll have a girls’ night out sometime,” Andy says with a grin, her freckled face pulled into a smile that makes Jemma believe she well and truly means it.

“I’ll look forward to it,” Jemma says, smiling to match.

As they exit the restroom together, they locate Jasper and Leo chatting with Petr by the door. They’re sure to thank Petr for having them and he only asks that they come again soon, waiving their bill for the evening as a gesture of goodwill for their first meeting. Moments later, they emerge into the night air, the street lit up by neon lights. They walk down the sidewalk together, still carrying on their conversation before Leo brings up a decent point.

“I was thinking I could call for a cab,” he says. “That way you don’t have to drop me off.”

“If you want to give the two lovebirds their space, you could always ride with me,” Andy supplies.

“It’s not a problem for us to drop you off first,” Jasper butts in.

“No, no, go have your privacy,” Leo says.

“Are you sure, Fitz?” Jemma asks.

“Positive. I think I can survive a car ride with Andy,” Leo declares.

“Oh, we’re not taking a car,” Andy says.

“No? But then…”

“Ever ridden a motorcycle?”

At Leo’s blank stare, Jemma offers, “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have us drop you off?”

“I’ll be fine,” Leo says eventually. “I’m still mostly sure I’ll survive.”

“That’s the spirit,” Andy chirps.

They say their goodbyes there and as she watches Leo and Andy walking off into the dark, she wonders if maybe they shouldn’t have insisted on driving him home. She’s sure he’ll be fine, but she knows he’d done it so she and Jasper wouldn’t have to go out of their way. Not that she doesn’t appreciate that. She really does—she appreciates how Leo has made room for this relationship in his life when it’s always just been the two of them. It’s a been a big change to their dynamic and she couldn’t be more thankful for the fact that she hasn’t lost anything she wasn’t prepared to lose.

“He’ll be fine. Andy always has a spare helmet,” Jasper says, pulling her from her thoughts. “And usually drives the speed limit. Close to the speed limit. Well… anyway, he’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure he will be,” she agrees with a soft laugh. She reaches out, linking her hand with his as they walk. “I had fun tonight.”

“Yeah?” he says questioningly.

She nods. “Andy is very fond of you. I’m looking forward to getting to know her better.”

“I’m glad,” Jasper says, giving her hand a squeeze. “I knew she’d love you and I’ve been dying to introduce you. All the same, you have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to this weekend.”

“Oh, I think I have an idea,” Jemma says.

* * *

Jasper’s apartment is tidy, but not overly so; there are stacks of magazines and books here and there, the odd DVD or video game or CD among them. There’s a sofa in the living room with a throw draped over the back that looks handmade and small, potted plants on the windowsill. There’s an impressive spice rack in the pantry and pots and pans hanging over the island countertop. The notes stuck to the refrigerator range from reminders to call people to grocery lists to phone numbers and email addresses.

There are framed pictures on the mantle and Jemma recognizes Phil and Andy in two of them. In another, a much younger Jasper is standing beside a man in a lab coat with dark hair, a square jaw and teeth like a military cemetery. Most noticeable, however, is the furry little surprise that greets her.

“You never told me you had a dog!” Jemma coos as a pudgy English Bulldog makes his way straight towards her.

“I probably should’ve, huh?” Jasper admits. “You mentioned once that you loved dogs, so I guess I just sort of assumed it would be fine.”

“He’s adorable,” Jemma says. “What’s his name?”

“Baxter,” Jasper says, kneeling beside her as the dog happily licks her hand. “He’s a loveable old grump. Andy dog sits when I’m out of town and I do the same for her when the reverse is true.”

“Well, I think he’s a sweetheart,” Jemma assures him.

“I’m gonna let him out for a minute. I put your bag in my room if you need it, but make yourself at home,” Jasper says, rising and pulling a dog leash off the coat rack. “I’ll be back in five.”

Jemma smothers a laugh as Baxter looks back at her questioningly before obediently waddling after Jasper. She can’t help but do a little poking around, finding her way around the apartment to the bathroom, a small guest room and then Jasper’s bedroom. Her bag is propped up in the corner, but she’s more intent on looking around. However, the sound of the door opening and closing ends that a little prematurely for her. Baxter comes trotting in with a treat in his mouth and plops himself down in the doggy bed by the door before Jasper appears.

“Did you take a look around?” he asks.

“A little bit,” Jemma says, sitting on the edge of his bed. “You’re much neater than I thought you would be.”

“I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or an insult,” Jasper says with a chuckle, sitting beside her. “But to be fair, I cleaned like crazy this morning. And then I put some things back because I thought if it was too clean you might notice.”

“Very clever,” Jemma says with a smothered laugh. “You didn’t have to do anything like that for me, though.”

“Of course I did,” Jasper says, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. “I wanted everything to be just right when you got here.”

“Well, it’s just right,” Jemma says, placing a hand on his knee and leaning towards him.

“Oh yeah?” he prompts, running a hand through her hair.

“You’re here, I’m here and there’s no chance of interruption,” Jemma says, kissing him with a soft smile. “I’d say that’s just right.”

“Remember when I stayed over your place and we weren’t prepared?” Jasper asks, kissing along her jaw line.

“Please tell me that won’t be an issue tonight,” Jemma says.

“I like to think I learn from my mistakes,” Jasper says with a slight smirk.

“Then I think you may want to put Baxter to bed,” Jemma says, pulling his glasses off his face and kissing his nose.

Jasper doesn’t need to be told twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone curious this is a piece I commissioned from tumblr user [yaahoooo](http://yaahoooo.tumblr.com/) with [Andy and another OC](http://imgur.com/g6LpZG7) of mine.


	9. Feels Just Like I'm Falling for the First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It feels like it's taken them such a long time to get here, but Jemma doesn't regret a minute of it.

Jemma does feel a bit badly at kicking poor Baxter out of the room, but she’s not keen on having an audience and at the very least he doesn’t seem so very bothered when Jasper leaves him on the sofa with a chew toy to occupy his time. The senior agent returns quickly enough, flashing her a grin as he closes the door behind him.

“Well, honey, the kids are in bed for the night,” he announces, sauntering back over to her. “Looks like we’ve got some time to ourselves.”

Having just finished pulling the bed sheets back, Jemma sits herself on the side of the bed and begins slipping her shoes off. She smiles to herself as she does so, already enjoying his teasing. She wonders, though, if he’ll be more comfortable than he had been the last time. Their last sexual encounter had resulted in him backing off out of embarrassment and she hopes he trusts her enough this time around. He sits on the bed beside her and presses a hand to her back, causing her to look up at him.

“I think we can come up with something to occupy our time,” Jemma says.

“A smart couple of agents like us?” Jasper says. “I’m sure you’re right.”

He catches her laugh when he kisses her and she feels it reverberate between them, pressed between their lips. They pull apart as they begin disrobing and Jasper pulls a few supplies from the nightstand before switching the lamp off, plunging them into a comfortable darkness that’s disturbed only by the moonlight filtering in through the cracks in the blinds. She reaches out, pulling him back onto the bed with her as they continue to shed article after article of clothing until everything that had been on their bodies now lies somewhere on the floor (or perhaps on the lamp, as she may have been a little more enthusiastic with her bra than she’d intended).

There’s enough moonlight for her to see him kneeling before her and has to reach out, has to touch and explore his body as he had hers. He lets her, running his fingers through her hair as she runs her fingers over his bare skin. She feels the raised skin of scar tissue in various places, traces the tattoos that she can make out on his arms. There’s on his chest, over his heart, and she recognizes it immediately as the S.H.I.E.L.D. emblem.

“If I didn’t believe you take your job seriously,” Jemma tells him, “I certainly do now.”

“I’m a company man,” Jasper answers with a chuckle. “What can I say?”

“Why here, though?” she asks.

“Hm?”

“Why did you decide to get this particular tattoo in this particular location?”

“Some years back, Phil and I ran into a bit of trouble on an op, so when we got back, we wound up in medical. But the second we were both allowed to have visitors, we got them. It’s part of the reason I learned that sometimes family is something you’re born into and sometimes it’s something you make for yourself. S.H.I.E.L.D. is the one I’ve made for myself. Anyway, we got a little too drunk after we were released and wound up at a tattoo parlor, so I suppose that’s what I had in mind when I decided to get this one.”

“Well, I think it’s sweet,” Jemma tells him.

“You wanna know what Phil got?” Jasper asks with a hint of mischief in his eye.

“Of course.”

“Captain America’s shield. Right here.”

“ _No_.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Well, I knew he was a fan of the Captain…”

“You have no idea.”

“Best not let Skye find out. She’ll never let him live it down, what with her bad girl shenanigans and all.”

“Bad girl shenanigans, huh?”

“Oh, yes, I’ve been taking lessons. Would you like me to demonstrate?”

“I think I like the sound of that.”

This is the first time they’ve both been completely naked before each other and while it’s far from the first time she’s seen a man naked, this time in particular proves to be a unique experience. Perhaps because she’s waited so long for it, perhaps due to his reaction when he’d spent the night at her apartment, but it feels more important than it should. She stops, pulling her hands away, seemingly confusing him with the action.

“Last time—“

“Last time, I got spooked because I was overthinking it,” he says softly, taking her hand in his and kissing her palm. “I’m done overthinking it.”

She takes his word for it, trusts him to trust her. Her fingers find the small, round patches of scar tissue on his stomach and he doesn’t flinch or pull away from her. She lingers there, remembering the story that goes with these scars and trying not to picture what it must have felt like, being left to die alone in the street. She puts it out of her mind, because doubtless he wouldn’t want her to think about it. Deciding to switch gears back to what they’d been moving towards before, she reaches lower and takes his cock in her hand.

He traps a groan behind his lips as she begins stroking him, feeling the way he steadily grows harder as she teases him. She meets him as he leans in to kiss her again, but he doesn’t stop there, prompting her to bare her neck as his lips move down her jawline. She thumbs the head of his cock as he sucks at a spot low on her neck, arousal pooling in her belly as he presses into her hand. She listens to him smother soft moans of pleasure against her skin as she strokes him faster and he remains taut with the restraint needed to keep himself from thrusting into her fist. Shortly there-after, however, he reaches down to pull her hand away and she wonders if she’s done something wrong.

“It would be really embarrassing if I came before we got to the main event,” he admits.

“Fair enough,” Jemma agrees. “Would you like to get to the main event, then?”

“Definitely,” Jasper answers. “But before that, I was wondering… do you think I could taste you?”

The question alone leaves her feeling a subtle throb of want between her legs. The last time anyone had done that seems like forever ago. Her last boyfriend wasn’t fond of reciprocating when it came to oral sex, so really, it’s been even longer than she’d first thought. With a nod of her head, Jemma lets Jasper lay her out on the bed before he moves between her legs. He takes his time kissing down her body and her heart is hammering in anticipation by the time he makes it past her navel.

Jasper is the slow and methodic sort, she finds as he nips at her inner thighs, moving closer to where she’d prefer him to be, but never quite close enough. He continues to tease, his breath tickling her skin until she’s fighting to keep from squirming.

Then his mouth is on her, hot and wet, his tongue licking a broad stripe across her clit. She gasps, her body twitching at the sudden contact. Jemma feels him sucking gently, his tongue continuing the same pattern as he holds her thighs apart. From what she can see, it’s a task that he seems to take a particular joy in doing; she can feel his moans vibrating against her. And if she’d thought that was all he’d be doing, she was wrong. Once he finds a rhythm, one of his hands leaves her thigh and dips down below. When she feels his fingers at her entrance, she unconsciously spreads her legs wider, inviting him to proceed.

She’s wet enough that he doesn’t need any other lubrication to press a finger inside her. Jemma arches back, mouth hanging open with a breathy moan as she grips the sheets beneath her. One finger becomes two before lone and he gently thrusts them inside her, curling and spreading them. Not once does she feel anything even remotely resembling discomfort, his movements making him out to be a sure, practiced hand when it comes to this sort of activity.

“Jasper, please,” she moans, fighting to keep her hips flat on the mattress.

Somehow knowing just what she’s asking for from those two words alone, he introduces a third finger. He never alters his pace, keeping on steadily as her breathing grows louder, punctuated by desperate moans of pleasure. Just when she considers asking him to stop teasing her and put a condom on, his fingers curl just right, stroking that spot inside her that makes the request futile as she’s sent tumbling over the edge. Her hips jerk hard enough with her climax that he withdraws his fingers and wraps his arms around her thighs to keep her still.

She shudders and whimpers, bucking against his hold as he gradually slows his pace, bringing her down slowly from her high. Apparently he’d expected her to need a moment to compose himself and she has to laugh at the muffled noise of surprise she wrings out of him when she drags him up for a kiss. Jemma can taste herself on his tongue and somehow that just spurs her on. Reaching for a condom, she wastes no time in getting it on him and getting them ready to go.

But before she does anything else, a thought occurs to her. It’s something she’s always wanted to try but had never found the opportunity to; her previous sexual partners never seemed the type for trying anything different so she’d just kept it to herself. It’s not even asking much, she thinks anyway, and with Jasper she actually thinks that, for once, she might have her way.

“I was just thinking,” Jemma says, nibbling at her bottom lip. “Do you suppose I could be on top?”

“Yes,” Jasper answers immediately, looking excited by the prospect and making her wonder why she’d even considered not asking. “That’s a definite yes.”

“I’ve always wanted to, it’s just that everyone else I’ve been with has always been so… well, _boring_ ,” Jemma admits. “They never wanted to do anything but boring old missionary. Not that there’s anything wrong with missionary, it’s just that a girl likes a little variety, you understand.”

“I’m flattered that you don’t find me boring. And I agree: variety is definitely important in the bedroom,” Jasper agrees with a nod. “And for the record, if there’s anything you ever want to try, I’m up for it. Unless it involves candle wax. I draw the line there, I had a bad experience once and nothing can make me want to try it again.”

“How do you do that?” Jemma asks with a smile.

“What?”

“Make me laugh so that I forget that I’m nervous?”

“I’m good at running my mouth,” Jasper says with a grin.

“Yes, you’re very talented with your mouth,” Jemma agrees, pushing him onto his back.

“Oh, aren’t you smart,” Jasper smirks up at her.

“Well, I _was_ at the top of my class,” Jemma declares, straddling him.

“I get it. You’ve just always liked being on top,” Jasper says.

“You don’t seem to be complaining.”

“No, no complaints from— _oh_.”

She lowers herself onto him, enjoying the way it stays his quick tongue. The view from up top is certainly something she could get used to, she decides as she presses down until he’s fully sheathed inside her. His hands are on her hips as she gives herself time to adjust and his grip alone sends a shiver of pleasure up her spine. She gazes down at him, thinking that a few months ago, this is not where she envisioned she’d be. She hadn’t seen it then, but she’s right where she wants to be.

“My God, you’re beautiful,” Jasper says, looking up at her like he’s never quite seen her before, his thumbs tracing the curves of her hip bones.

With a smile, Jemma places her hands over his. It seems too, well… _pornographic_ to say that she loves the way he feels inside her or that she’s come more than once while imagining this very scenario on particularly lonely nights. It makes them no less true. It’s too embarrassing to say that she loves the feeling of being stretched around his cock, the feeling of him thick and hard, deep inside her. She loves having him pinned beneath her, watching him practice such restraint in stopping himself from moving until she’s ready. Still, it’s the sort of thing she’s going to have to work up to saying. For now, she’ll just keep those thoughts to herself.

She rolls her hips experimentally and based on the noise each of them makes, the arrangement seems to be working rather well for both of them. She grinds her hips down against him, moaning as he thrusts up to meet her. As she begins to ride him harder, she braces her hands against his chest, listening to the sound of their panting and his soft murmurs of encouragement. Despite having come just a short time ago, she finds she’s already working up to her second orgasm.

She shifts, just slightly, and oh, yes, right there. That’s the spot she’d been looking for. Her movements grow more focused as she tries to hit it again and again, her walls clenching around him each time she does.

“Fuck, Jem, you feel so good,” he hisses.

Jemma whimpers, shaking her head. He’s letting her set the rhythm, but she wants to feel him. Really feel him.

“Don’t hold back,” she pants. “Please.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. She moans, long and loud as he grips her hips firmly, holding her in place while he fucks up into her. She grinds down to meet him on each upward thrust. Reaching between them, she begins stroking her clit in time with their movements, feeling that knot in her belly wind tighter and tighter with each passing moment until she can hardly stand it any longer.

“I think… I think I’m going to come again,” Jemma says, out of breath. “Jasper, I’m…”

“God, yeah, come for me,” he answers, equally as breathless. “I wanna feel you.”

With a gasp and sharp cry, she comes for the second time that night, mouth hanging open as her inner walls spasm and clamp down on him. Pleasure courses through her veins as she hears him curse, his movements growing fast and uneven. Not a moment later, he thrusts up into her and stills, his hips bucking another handful of times as he reaches completion.

They stay that way for a time, working their way through the aftershocks and catching their breath. Once she’s sure she isn’t going to fall flat on her face, Jemma lifts off of him on shaky legs and settles in beside him as he removes the condom, ties it off and tosses it into the waste bin on the other side of the bed. With a sigh, she rests her head on his chest and lets him wrap an arm around her shoulders. Minutes pass as she listens to the beating of his heart, feeling ridiculously satiated as his fingers gently stroke up and down her arm.

“That was definitely worth the wait,” Jasper declares.

“Mmm,” Jemma hums in agreement. “We should do it again tomorrow.”

“And the day after,” Jasper answers.

“Twice,” Jemma adds.

He chuckles and kisses her forehead. “I’m glad I found you in that restricted hallway.”

“I’m glad you did as well,” Jemma says.

She wonders where she would be now if they hadn’t met, but quickly decides it’s not worth wasting her time considering. Not when she’s here, now, beside him. Leo had his (many) reservations about the two of them going into the field, but so far it’s been an experience she wouldn’t give up for anything. For all their inexperience, they’ve learned and gained so much from taking the leap and getting out there. It hasn’t all been wonderful and doubtless there will be equally difficult trials in the future and she’s alright with that. Because in the midst of all this, she’s found something that makes it all worth it. She’s found a second family, she’s found people who love and support her, who believe in her and trust her and listen to her. Really, actually listen to her. She’s found greater confidence and the room for growth.

“Someday, when there’s time, I’d like to take you home to my parents,” Jemma says softly.

“You sure I’m the take-home-to-mom-and-dad type?” Jasper asks, sounding amused.

“The fact that you didn’t run from the bedroom screaming bloody murder at the suggestion says you are,” she answers. “But if you must know, yes, as a matter of fact, I am sure. I share the important things in my life with them and you’re a very important part of my life now.”

His hand pauses briefly before he resumes stroking her arm. He doesn’t say anything for a long while and she wonders if she’s said something wrong. Or perhaps if he just doesn’t like the idea of being taken home to meet the family. Admittedly, it’s not something most people look forward to in a relationship, but it’s not as though she’s expecting to make any definite plans.

“My mother would’ve liked you,” he says after some time. “I wish I could take you home to her.”

“I’m sure I would’ve loved to meet her,” Jemma assures him. “I’d like to meet the rest of your family, all the same. Your cousin, for instance.”

“That’s definitely do-able,” Jasper agrees. “And I’d like to meet your family, when we get a chance. Do they know about me?”

“Well… not specifically. I mentioned that there might be someone but we haven’t gone into detail,” Jemma says, fighting off a yawn. “I suspect the next opportunity I get to speak with them I’ll be able to explain. Does your cousin know about me?”

“I have a big mouth,” Jasper admits. “And I’m not even a little bit sorry.”

Jemma giggles, pressing closer to him and closing her eyes. She’s feeling the pull of sleep coming on string now and as much as she’d like to fight it, she knows they’ve still got a few days ahead of them. The idea of a nice lie in sounds entirely too appealing, so she gives up any thought of attempting to remain awake. Thankfully, Jasper seems to have the same idea as he kisses the top of her head and murmurs a quiet “Love you” into her hair.

Murmuring a similar response, she settles in, content to leave any further discussion to wait until the morning.

* * *

Jemma wakes to a world not yet woken. There is the barest hint of light hitting the blinds and the birds haven’t even begun to sing their morning song. Beneath the duvet she is warm and cozy, made more so by the reminder that she has nowhere to be and no one to answer to for days. It’s the sort of freedom that reminds her of weekends as a child during the school year, when there was no homework to be done and no teachers to assign her any new tasks. It was a reprise from responsibility, from her duty to be a good girl and to live up to the expectations set for her, from the weight she put upon her own shoulders.

She breathes it in, sighing softly, as she huddles further beneath the sheets. Jasper’s arm is wrapped securely around her waist and judging by the soft, even breaths that tickle the skin at the back of her neck, he’s still asleep. As carefully as she can, she rolls to face him. She bites her lower lip as he stirs and pries his dark eyes open to blink at her in bleary befuddlement, clearly looking for some sort of problem or danger. He begins pushing himself up, but stops when Jemma pulls him back down.

“Shh,” Jemma hushes him, placing a hand upon his cheek. “It’s still early. Go back to sleep.”

He hums in recognition, apparently finding wisdom in her words as he easily shuts his eyes once more. Never having been fully awake in the first place, it doesn’t take him long to get back to sleep. Watching him, she realizes she’s never really seen him asleep before; any time they’ve had an opportunity to share a bed, he’s always fallen asleep after her and woken before. He looks peaceful and relaxed in a way that doesn’t seem possible when he’s awake.

She brushes a thumb across his cheek and is unable to contain her smile as he nuzzles closer to her, his arm wrapping more securely around her waist. His defenses are lowered here, but she knows that if he wished it, he would be awake at a moment’s notice. It seems to be the standard for all experienced S.H.I.E.L.D. agents; that ability to wake at the sound of a pin dropping. The fact that she doesn’t wake him now tells her that he doesn’t sense any need to keep himself alert. He can afford to relax because he’s in an environment where he feels safe, with someone he can trust.

It’s the sort of thing that he doesn’t ever have to explain to her and perhaps never could, with words. This says enough.

* * *

When Jemma wakes again, it’s decidedly brighter out—though somewhat gloomy, given the sound of the rain against the window—and the bed is noticeably emptier. However, in Jasper’s place, Baxter lays with his head on the pillow and when he notices she’s awake, proceeds to place a series of sloppy dog kisses on her face. She laughs, sitting upright and patting his head in an attempt to appease him.

“I leave for two minutes and you’re already trying to steal my girl?” Jasper says, appearing in the doorway.

“He’s quite the charmer,” Jemma says, trying to shoo Baxter away enough so she can get out of bed.

“I was about to start making breakfast, if you’d like to take a shower,” Jasper says. He nods towards the window. “Looks like we’re rained in today, but we can talk about what to do over food.”

“Actually, a shower sounds marvelous,” Jemma agrees, stretching.

“Take your time,” Jasper says, making a motion for Baxter to get off the bed. “There’s plenty of hot water.”

“Oh, I won’t be long,” Jemma assures him, picking her outfit from her suitcase.

She hears the jingle of Baxter’s tags as he waddles off after his owner and she makes her way to the adjoining bathroom. Initially, she really hadn’t meant to be long, but once she was out from beneath the duvet, the weather lent a rather chilly feel to the day and removing herself from the warm spray of the shower wasn’t as easy as it should have been.

It gave her time to reflect. Skye had seemed surprised all those months ago when Jemma confessed to never having any real boyfriends and being more the type to have the casual fling now and again. It was just that no one really interested her all that much. She’d tried dating, of course, it was just that in the end, she never found herself satisfied. They were too boring or too difficult to put up with or simply not at all like they’d made themselves appear at first. Jemma didn’t have time for games then and she certainly doesn’t now.

Jasper seems to her to be flexible in all the right ways, so very different from the men in her past. She thinks about what he’d said last night, in regards to her wanting to try things, and decides that would be something interesting to talk about today.

With that thought in mind, she finally pries herself from the shower and towels down as quickly as possible so she can slip into the oversized sweater she’d brought with her. After brushing her teeth and drying her hair, she exits the bathroom to the unmistakable smell of coffee and bacon. She peeks her head around the corner and spies Jasper at the stove, telling Baxter that he can have a piece of bacon if he behaves.

“That smells wonderful,” she says, padding up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Hope you like pancakes,” Jasper says. “Because I like pancakes.”

“So I’ve heard.”

He turns, looking to her skeptically. “Really.”

She shrugs. “Sometimes Agent Coulson has a lot to say about you and I have a lot of questions.”

“Please don’t tell me you two sit up at night and do that whole boy talk thing about me,” Jasper says flatly.

“I’m sure your little diner dates were far manlier than he made them out to be,” Jemma says, patting his arm consolingly before helping him bring plates to the table.

“It’s a good thing Phil came back from the dead,” Jasper says. “Because now I have the opportunity to kill him myself.”

“Relax, I was exaggerating,” Jemma assures him as they both sit. “It’s just that you two obviously have a long standing relationship and there are some nights when both of us can’t sleep, so when we talk, I ask about you. I enjoy his stories.”

“I’m sure you do,” Jasper snorts.

“To be fair, your tattoo story was the most embarrassing thing I’ve heard from either of you,” Jemma points out as she spoons eggs onto her plate.

Jasper pulls a face. “Yeah, don’t tell him I told you that one.”

“On one condition,” Jemma says, handing a small piece of bacon to Baxter.

“Oh boy, here we go,” Jasper says with a shake of his head as he fills both their mugs with coffee. “What’s the condition?”

“Last night you mentioned that you don’t mind trying different things in the bedroom,” Jemma says. “I’m curious as to what sorts of things you like.”

“Wearing ladies underwear.”

“Really? What sorts?”

“Well, I’ve got a lacy, black pair that I’m fond of.”

“Perhaps you could model them for me later tonight?”

For a moment Jasper’s quiet before a sharp, bark of a laugh emerges from him. He rests his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand as he regards her with a smirk.

“You do realize that what I just told you most people might consider strange?” he points out.

“I don’t find it strange,” Jemma answers easily. “I quite like it.”

“You like it,” Jasper echoes, raising an amused eyebrow.

“Do I like the idea of you wearing a suit that everyone can see while wearing lacy, black panties that no one knows about? Why yes, I do,” Jemma says stirring cream into her coffee.

When she looks up, Jasper hasn’t taken his eyes off of her and, to her surprise, there’s a faint blush on his cheeks.

“You’re blushing!” Jemma points out delightedly. “I’ve made you blush!”

“You can’t just spring something like that on a guy at the breakfast table,” Jasper sputters in his defense.

“I was curious,” Jemma says. “And besides, I think it’s about time we start to talk about these things, don’t you?”

“Alright. After breakfast, we’re having a talk because now I need to know what kind of deep, dark sexual desires Jemma Simmons is hiding under that prim and proper appearance,” Jasper says slyly.

“Oh now you’re making _me_ blush,” Jemma huffs.

“You started it.”

“Tease.”

“Takes one to know one.”

Perhaps flinging bacon and bits of pancake at each other isn’t the most adult resolution, but judging by the way Baxter happily goes about cleaning up after them, they probably could have done worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The black panties are all your fault, Max.


	10. The Policy of Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma and Jasper's long weekend comes to an end, but not before a few surprise guests pay them a visit.

“I haven’t been able to dress up like this in ages,” Jemma says, clasping Jasper’s hand as they stroll down the sidewalk.

“Then I’m glad to give you the opportunity,” Jasper replies with a gentle squeeze of her hand. “Have I mentioned you look amazing?”

Jemma has to try not to laugh, if only because he had. Nearly a dozen times, in fact. It seems like every time there’s a moment of silence between them, she looks over and finds him staring at her. It’s nice to be looked at the way he looks at her—as though she honestly is the most beautiful thing he’s seen and not just saying so. As though he’s looking at her like this, not because he knows it’s what she wants, but because it’s how he feels.

“If you don’t stop saying that, I’m going to get quite the inflated ego,” Jemma says with a smile.

“I can live with that,” Jasper says with a smirk. “Seeing as I’m not going to be stopping it any time soon.”

“Very well. Two can play at that game,” Jemma declares. “And you should know that I think you look very handsome in what you’re wearing.”

“Nice try, but you’ve seen me in a suit more often than not,” Jasper replies.

“Precisely. If I think you look handsome in what you’re wearing, it would then stand to reason that since you’re always dressed in a similar fashion, then I always find you handsome,” Jemma says triumphantly.

Jasper rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“Now you’re just being ridiculous,” he says.

“Oh, you stop that. You’re not allowed to compliment me if I’m not allowed to do the same to you,” Jemma says. “I’m afraid you’re just going to have to suffer through my compliments.”

He’s laughing as he gets her coat, but he never agrees or disagrees.

* * *

“I feel like I should be whispering,” Jemma says under her breath.

“Why?” Jasper asks, looking up from his menu curiously.

“It’s very quiet. Like a library,” Jemma replies. “And everyone here seems very… posh.”

“You mean rich and snobby.”

“Yes, that’s what I’ve just said, isn’t it?”

“In British-speak, sure.”

“English, duck. _English_.”

“Did you just call me a duck?” Jasper asks, his tone colored by laughter.

“Yes. No. I mean… not exactly the way you think. You see duck is… well it’s rather like calling someone a dear. I suppose it’s just something I picked up from my parents,” Jemma admits. Realizing what she’s just said, she colors and hurriedly adds, “Not that I picture us like my parents, you understand.”

“I think it’s cute,” Jasper assures her. “Although, I don’t think you’ve ever told me about your family.”

“I must have at some point,” Jemma says with a small frown.

“Not beyond mentioning three brothers that talk over you and your parents,” Jasper reminds her.

“Oh. I suppose I must have overlooked that somehow,” Jemma says.

“So,” Jasper says, resting his chin on his knuckles, “tell me about them.”

“Really? Now?”

“Unless you don’t want to.”

“Well, I just assumed you wouldn’t want to spend tonight talking about something like that.”

“You’ve said yourself that your family is important to you. And if you’re not joking about taking me home to them, then I’d like to know a little bit about them,” Jasper points out. “Learning more about you is exactly how I want to spend tonight.”

“I certainly wasn’t joking,” Jemma declares, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind her ear. She wonders if he knows just how serious she is about the whole thing. “What would you like to know?”

“Let’s start with names first and you can tell me,” Jasper says.

“Alright, then. Let’s see, ehm… My mum and dad have been married for almost forty years. You can just call them Nancy and Greg when you meet them. They won’t want you calling them ‘Mr. and Mrs.,’” Jemma tells him. “My dad is a baker and my mum is a barrister who practices in civil liberties and human rights. She does as much pro bono work as she can, which is usually quite a bit considering Dad has his own bakery and it’s rather successful. But he’s got a bad back so my older brother Russell has mostly taken over these days.”

She pauses to sip at her wine, cobbling together all the information she thinks will be relevant and noting with no little pleasure that Jasper seems to be listening intently.

“Russell is the oldest at thirty-five; he and his husband, James, have two children. Then there are my older brothers Todd and Terry, who are thirty. Twins, if it needed to be said. Todd and his wife Amelia have four children and he works as a Detective Sergeant at New Scotland Yard. Terry is divorced, has shared custody of his daughter with his ex-wife and works as a journalist,” Jemma reports.

“And then you. The only girl and probably the apple of your dad’s eye,” Jasper teases.

“Don’t ever mention that in front of him. He says that’s where my name came from; because I’m his gem,” Jemma says with a huff. “Likely he won’t need any prompting with you around, but please do what you can to spare me from his efforts to embarrass me in front of you.”

“I wouldn’t be too worried about it,” Jasper says with a broad grin. “A lot of dads are like that with their daughters.”

“You say that as though you know what you’re talking about,” Jemma points out.

“Just someone I know,” Jasper says with a small smile. “So, your brothers have kids. Does that make you Auntie Jemma?”

“No, it makes me ‘Jemma, when are you going to find yourself a nice lad and settle down?’” Jemma says.

“This is a thing, then,” Jasper says, eyebrow raised curiously.

“I’m not exactly known for bringing anyone home,” Jemma warns him. “My parents seem convinced that I’ll end up old, grey and alone. And they aren’t the only ones.”

Really, just because she’d focused on a career instead of settling down doesn’t mean she never would. And besides, what was wrong with being alone? Some people aren’t looking for a romantic partner to spend their life with. Or children. Well… She wanted one of those things (at least) but what was the hurry? Alright, so her brothers had all gone and been married and had children. She was the youngest of them, she still had plenty of time left for that sort of thing.

She’s surprised, though, when she sees that Jasper is no longer looking at her. He squints as he stares at something across the restaurant before his lips quirk up in a smile and he raises a hand in greeting. When she tries to turn to see who it is, he places a hand on hers, drawing her attention back to him.

“Just act natural and follow my lead, alright?” he advises her. “There’s nothing to be nervous about.”

“A-Alright,” she agrees.

“Well, well, well, imagine running into you here, Agent Sitwell.”

Jemma stands as Jasper does, noting the comfortable smile on his face before she turns to see who they’re greeting. One of their guests she recognizes easily—Andy King, dressed in a standard S.H.I.E.L.D. suit and tie, offers her a bright smile. The speaker, however, well, she can see now why Jasper had advised her to act natural. It’s not every day one runs into Secretary Alexander Pierce. She tries not to gape like a fish as he and Jasper exchange a warm handshake.

She’s never seen him in person, but he’s a name that carries as much weigh as Director Fury. He’s got an outwardly gregarious and engaging aura, like your favorite grandpa, all while maintaining a bearing of undeniable power. He instantly owns the space and she imagines that’s likely the same wherever he goes. To her great alarm, after a quick greeting with Jasper, he sets his sights on her.

“And this must be the lovely and talented Agent Jemma Simmons,” Pierce says, reaching out to shake her hand also. “I’ve had my eye on you and Agent Fitz for some time now. Needless to say, your files are most impressive. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Likewise, Mr. Secretary,” Jemma says with a small smile and a polite bob of her head as she shakes his hand.

“You know, I’d been wondering what’s had Jasper here so distracted lately, but I think I’m starting to get the idea,” Pierce says with a teasing wink. “I’m glad at least some of the good ones find a way to have a life outside S.H.I.E.L.D. Now, if only our little Andy here might take her partner’s lead…”

“Sir, please,” Andy intones with an embarrassed laugh.

“Oh, come now, there’s nothing wrong in wanting the best for our best,” Pierce says. He reaches out, laying a hand on both Jasper and Andy’s shoulders, like a proud father might. “You know, Jemma—I’m sorry, may I call you Jemma?”

“Certainly, sir,” Jemma replies.

“Well, Jemma, you can certainly be proud of our boy Jasper. These two have done some amazing work for us,” Pierce says, visibly squeezing the two agents’ shoulders. “From what I understand, your spirit is second only to your smarts. We can always use an agent of your caliber, Jemma, and with the way you’re headed, I can say that I look forward to being able to work with you in the future.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jemma says, cheeks flushing pink under his praise. “You’re really too kind.”

“Too kind? Not for one of the brightest young minds in S.H.I.E.L.D. But we won’t spoil your evening by overstaying our welcome,” Pierce says, flashing them another smile.

“Thank you, Mr. Secretary,” Jasper says, shaking his hand once more. “Enjoy your evening.”

“A pleasure meeting you, Mr. Secretary,” Jemma adds.

“If I could have a moment, sir?” Andy asks, head tilting slightly to the side.

“Of course,” Pierce says, clapping her on the back. “You kids have fun.”

The three of them thank him in unison as he retreats back to the other side of the restaurant. Once he’s out of earshot, Andy sputters with pent-up laughter, drawing a scowl from Jasper.

“You should’ve seen your faces,” Andy giggles.

“Oh, real funny, Bambi,” Jasper snorts. “Can’t a guy have _one_ night to himself?”

“Relax,” Andy says, rolling her eyes. “We’re here meeting with Senator Stern and I saw you two across the restaurant so of course we had to come say hello. You know how much he wanted to meet Jemma.”

“Yeah, well, a little warning would have been nice,” Jasper says.

“Sure. Next time I’ll just have the waiter leave a note in your bread basket,” Andy snorts.

“Jerk,” Jasper says, flicking her ear.

“That was Secretary Pierce,” Jemma says numbly. “I just shook hands with Secretary Pierce. Who knows my name. And has read my file.”

“I’m starting to see what you meant about giving you a little warning,” Andy says. “Now I feel a little mean.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s fine,” Jemma says. “I’m just… That was not the sort of thing that I was expecting from this evening.”

“It can be a little intimidating meeting him the first time,” Andy says, nodding her head in understanding. “But I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Anyway, I’m gonna split. Lots of fun and exciting business to attend to, wining and dining politicians. I’ll see you Monday, Jasper?”

“Yeah. Your turn to get coffee,” Jasper reminds her, pulling her in for a hug.

“Like I’d forget,” she says, pulling away to hug Jemma as well. “Sorry for crashing your date. How about the next time we all go out, it’ll be on me to make up for it?”

“I think that’s agreeable,” Jemma says, smiling. “Hopefully it will be sometime soon.”

“I have a feeling it will be,” Andy says, smiling broadly.

The wave her off as she departs to return to the other side of the restaurant, where some sort of business is transpiring that is no doubt far above Jemma’s pay grade. As they take their seats again, she finds she’s still a little off kilter from meeting undoubtedly one of the most powerful men in the country, but that Jasper seems oddly affected as well. He’s quiet as they resume their meal, seeming distracted and unsettled, as though the meeting had robbed him of his good humor. She reaches out, resting her hand on his.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” she points out when he looks up.

“Sorry,” he sighs. “I wasn’t expecting to see them here.”

“I don’t mind so much,” Jemma says. “But it seems that you do.”

Jasper hesitates, as though he doesn’t really want to talk about it. He buys himself time by pouring a little more wine into both their glasses before settling back in his seat.

“I’d just like to leave work at work once in a while,” Jasper admits. “But this job… you never really clock out. It’s always there.”

“We both know that,” Jemma says. “But that doesn’t mean having a relationship is impossible. Harder than it is for most, yes, but not impossible.”

“I want to believe that, but everything I’ve seen seems to say otherwise. I mean, none of Phil’s relationships have lasted. I don’t think Blake ever leaves that surveillance room other than to get more coffee.  And did you know May used to be married?” he asks.

“No. I didn’t,” Jemma answers softly.

“She was. Until Bahrain, at least,” Jasper says. “Whether it’s the job itself or what the job does to you, it just seems that nothing good can last. And you can’t blame people for not wanting to stay, for not wanting to be a part of this. We all made this choice, coming into this, but you can’t expect other people to do the same. This life isn’t for everyone and it’s not fair to ask them to live it.”

“All those things _are_ true,” Jemma says. “So I suppose it’s a good thing that neither of us have any intention of going anywhere.”

“Jemma—“

“No. Just listen for a moment,” she says, cutting him off. “You’re right. About all those things. But in this case, this is a life we’ve both chosen. There are no surprises, no one of us being left to an empty house after we come home from our nine-to-five, wondering if the other will be coming home this week. Yes, it’s been difficult and I’m sure it’s going to remain to be difficult, but I know it will get easier as well. Over time, we’ll figure this out. And for now, the time we’ve had together is more than I could have hoped for. Whether or not this doesn’t work out down the line isn’t something we can know; but it’s working now and I think that’s what matters. So we can waste time dwelling on it, or we can enjoy the here and now.”

Jasper looks down, his fingers tapping the table rhythmically, as he digests what she’s just said. In the end, it seems whatever unpleasant thoughts had been plaguing him are being shelved for the night as he smiles and squeezes her hand.

“You’re right,” he tells her. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Jemma assures him. “I’ve had those same thoughts myself.”

“But I shouldn’t be bringing them up now,” Jasper says. “So, that’s that. No more talking about it for the rest of the weekend.”

“Good,” Jemma says, picking up her wine glass. “That’s what I like to hear.”

Still, he does have a point. It seems that S.H.I.E.L.D. is nearly inescapable. So much of their lives seem to revolve around it that she wonders if they really will be able to make it work. But she catches herself before thinking too much on the subject and, clinking her glass to Jasper’s, decides to take her own advice.

* * *

As they head home for the evening, Jasper says he’s got a little something planned. No matter how much she pries, however, he won’t tell her what it is. She spends the entirety of the car ride guessing at what it could be, but by the time they arrive at his apartment, she finds she’s no closer to coming up with a feasible idea than when she’d started. They make their way up and are greeted enthusiastically by Baxter once they step foot inside.

“Did you save any room for ice cream?” Jasper asks, hanging their coats by the door.

“There’s always room for ice cream,” Jemma answers, kneeling to scratch behind Baxter’s ears. “Is that the little something you had planned?”

“What? No,” Jasper laughs. “Granted, this is really good ice cream.”

“Oh? No doubt from some interesting, independently owned locale that you’ve stumbled upon in your travels,” Jemma says with a smile.

“Are you making fun of me?” Jasper asks with a smirk.

“I just think it’s interesting,” Jemma says, sitting on the sofa and patting the seat beside her until Baxter jumps up. The bulldog obliges, curling up beside her comfortably, content to have his belly rubbed by someone who is clearly an expert in the subject. “You always seem to have some little place on-hand no matter the occasion. I find your abhorrence towards all things big-business to be charming.”

“I like trying new things,” Jasper says, scooping ice cream into two small bowls. “You’re only going to get that if you go off the beaten path. Chains become chains for a reason; because they can please just about anyone. Independent and small businesses aren’t bound by that. They can be as free and unique as they like because they’re really only looking to cater to a specific audience: people like them.”

“I bet you’re everyone favorite lunch companion,” Jemma says.

“Well, I don’t like to brag, but yes. I am,” Jasper says.

She laughs quietly to herself, watching him lick ice cream off the side of his hand as he puts the tub back in the freezer. They’d been speaking in a lighthearted manner, but she really had meant it when she said it was something she found charming. Jasper has an easy smile, quick wit, and a penchant for walking the path less traveled that draws her in time and again. And then, for all his suave demeanor, his posture, his confident aura, she’s able to undo him with a sly remark or a few offhand words. It’s an ability that fascinates her.

The two of them winding up together is still something of a mystery to her, but she has to admit that having a man like Jasper trip over himself in pursuit of her is more than a little flattering. She’s not used to that kind of attention—despite the fact that she’s been told it’s something she deserves. Skye has become something of a best friend of sorts, different than Leo. The two of them can talk about boys—or girls, even—and gossip and do all of those fun, ridiculous things that Leo wouldn’t be able to appreciate.

It was Skye who had told her—after a little too much alcohol, admittedly—that anyone would be lucky to have her. She had stressed the point, saying that if a guy wasn’t head over heels in love with her, then he wasn’t worth her time. If a man wasn’t willing to treat her like she was the world to him, then she shouldn’t waste her time.

She likes to think she’s found that.

“Alright, a little ice cream and I’ll get us set up,” Jasper says, walking up behind the sofa and handing her a bowl.

“And just what are we setting up for?” Jemma asks, pushing Baxter’s nose away as the bulldog rises up from his slumber at the prospect of food.

“Since I don’t know when both of us will be able to make it out there,” Jasper says, pulling his laptop from its case and setting it on the coffee table, “and since he’s dying to meet you, I thought we could Skype with my cousin so I could show you off.”

“I would love to meet him,” Jemma says. “You said he has a boyfriend? Will we be meeting him as well?”

“I’m guessing Cecil’s finished with his radio program for the day, so I should think so,” Jasper says, booting up his laptop. “And if we’re lucky, we may just catch a rare sighting of the infamous Clint Barton. He has a habit of hanging around their apartment on the weekends.”

“And Hawkeye as well,” Jemma says. “I don’t know if I can handle all these important people in one day.”

“Unlike Secretary Pierce, there’s no reason to care what these guys think,” Jasper assures her. “They’re just a regular bunch of guys. Mostly.”

“I’m not sure I like the sound of that ‘mostly,’” Jemma hums, taking a bite of ice cream.

“It’s kind of hard to explain,” Jasper says, tapping his spoon on the side of his bowl as he logs in. “But maybe I should take a crack at it before we get started. See, Night Vale is… a little odd. Actually, really odd.”

“How odd, exactly?” Jemma asks, eyebrows raised.

“Night Vale is sort of an oops,” Jasper says slowly. “And what I mean by that is that, what we discovered was that Night Vale and its neighboring city, Desert Bluffs, the surrounding area… well, they’re here and they’re not.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“You won’t find them on any road map. You won’t find them on Google Maps or any GPS or anything. From most surrounding points, you won’t even see them,” Jasper goes on to say. “Night Vale exists within a dimensional tear. A hiccup. The people who find it never do so on purpose and it’s rare for people to stumble upon it. It exists between our world and some other, stranger world, inhabiting both and neither simultaneously.”

“A dimensional tear,” Jemma echoes slowly, her tone light and incredulous. “And… S.H.I.E.L.D. is aware of this?”

“Some of S.H.I.E.L.D. is. Director Fury, Phil, myself, Barton, Romanoff, Andy, a select group of scientists. That’s about it,” Jasper reports. “Andy was stationed there for about a year after we discovered it. She’s the one who recommended Carlos be assigned there once he was finished with his work on the Captain America project.”

The implications of this were enormous and yet he’s just handed her the information as casually as if he were giving her a recipe for his mother’s cookies. A million and one questions buzz through her head, so that she’s practically vibrating in her seat with a need to know, to experiment, to discover for herself. But now isn’t really the time, she knows.

“I have more questions than I think you can answer, so I’m going to attempt to accept that as it is for the time being,” Jemma says slowly. “Somehow.”

“I’m sure Carlos will be glad to answer any questions you have,” Jasper says, looking amused at the way she attempts to keep herself in check. “He’s a scientist.”

A few moments later, Jasper is dialing and they scoot closer together to make sure they’re both in the frame. After a few rings, the call connects and their screen is filled with the image of a man in a plaid shirt. He has dark, curly hair that is greying at the temples and the barest bit of scruff on his chin. When he catches sight of them, he smiles brightly and Jemma can see his teeth line up like a military cemetery.

_“Hey, you made it,”_ he observes.

“Hey, Carlos,” Jasper greets fondly.

Carlos turns to look over his shoulder, calling, _“Guys, they’re on!”_

Not a moment later, the screen is decidedly more crowded. Beside Carlos is a man who is neither tall nor short, neither fat nor thin. He’s very well dressed, in a shirt, tie and vest, and she can see a number of tattoos along the length of his forearms. Just to the back is another man, well built and wearing a purple t-shirt. He has short, sandy hair and a scruffy complexion. As he raises his beer bottle in greeting, she gets a view of arms so muscled, she’s half-tempted to blurt out that she’d not bought a ticket for the gun show.

“Cecil, Clint. Nice to see you,” Jasper says.

_“Always nice to see you, Jasper,”_ Cecil says in a voice so smooth you could spread it on toast. His eyes light up as he nearly squeals in delight. _“Oooh is this your **girlfriend**?”_

“Yeah, this is Jemma,” Jasper says sounding like he’s holding back a laugh. “Jem, this is my cousin Carlos, his boyfriend Cecil, and sulking in the back is Clint.”

_“You’d be sulking too if you were getting your ass handed to you in Scrabble. Again,”_ Clint argues.

_“Well, I **am** a scientist,”_ Carlos says, straightening his glasses.

_“And I’m a successful radio host,”_ Cecil adds. _“You were doomed from the start, Clint, you silly hawk.”_

_“Well, at the very least I’m drinking them both under the table. I’m winning at something,”_ Clint declares. _“Nice to meet you, Jemma.”_

_“Jasper tells me you’re a scientist as well,”_ Carlos says excitedly.

“Yes, I’m a biochemist. And my partner Fitz is an engineer. Jasper’s just told me a little bit about Night Vale and I have so many questions,” Jemma says, matching his excitement ounce for ounce. “What’s it like? It must be _fascinating_.”

_“It is! It’s truly the most fascinating project I’ve had the privilege of working on,”_  Carlos declares. _“Did you know time doesn’t work here? Or at least not the same way we’re used to. I’ll have to send you my report on clocks, I’m sure you’ll be as intrigued as I was.”_

“I would love to read it,” Jemma says, her eyes lighting up at the mere thought. “Here, let me just type my email address in chat… there.”

_“You’ll have to come visit sometime,”_ Carlos says. _“I would be so happy to have a fellow scientist to discuss my work with. And we could even conduct experiments together. Can you imagine?”_

“We have to go,” Jemma says to Jasper. “As soon as possible.”

_“Aren’t scientists adorable?”_ Cecil says, squishing the sides of his face. _“Oh, you have to tell me how you met yours.”_

“She shot me,” Jasper says.

Clint laughs so hard he starts choking on his beer. Jemma tries not to flush as Cecil joins in and Carlos sports a knowing smile. She’s learning not to be as embarrassed by it as she used to be. Eventually, they all seem to calm down, though Clint is wiping tears from his eyes.

_“Oh, man, I don’t really know anything about you, Jemma, but that’s enough for me to decide I like you,”_ Clint declares. _“Thank you for doing something all of us have only dreamed of.”_

“También te quiero, pendejo,” Jasper says, flipping him off.

“In my defense, I was doing it for my team’s sake,” Jemma explains.

_“I can respect that. You got a good team? Anyone I know?”_ Clint asks.

“Oh, well, I don’t suppose you know Fitz. Skye is a new addition, but we’ve got Agent Ward and Agent May. And then—“

“Bet you never expected May back in the field, huh?” Jasper cuts her off.

_“Usually when May says she’s never going to do something, she means it,”_ Clint notes with a hum. _“What got her to change her mind?”_

“Things changed. You know, after New York, with Phil and everything. I don’t know what Fury said specifically, but it was enough to get her onboard,” Jasper explains, his hand resting on Jemma’s knee.

It doesn’t escape her notice that he’d stopped her from mentioning Phil and she recalls that the Avengers aren’t to know about his survival. But based on the way Clint’s face falls when Jasper brings up New York and Phil, she’s not entirely sure it’s the wisest choice.

_“Yeah. I get it. Listen, I’m gonna cut my losses while I can and get some sleep. I’ll see you guys later,”_ Clint says, seeming like he’s in a sudden hurry to be anywhere but there. _“Jemma, it was nice meeting you.”_

“It was nice to meet you as well, Agent Barton,” Jemma answers.

_“Just ‘Clint’ is fine. I’m not doing a whole lotta agenting these days,”_ Clint says with a lopsided smile and a half laugh. _“But come pay us a visit some time. We’d be glad to have you.”_

As he gathers his things, they all bid him goodnight, but Jemma can’t shake the sinking feeling in her stomach. Carlos looks concerned and shakes his head.

_“You know how Clint feels about that, Jasper,”_ Carlos says. _“Especially with Agent Coulson…”_

“I know. I guess I wasn’t thinking,” Jasper admits with a sigh.

_“He’s been doing so much better, though,”_ Cecil says. _“And he’s been such a great help out here. We’ve been lucky to have him.”_

“Maybe let him know once in a while,” Jasper suggests.

_“We try, but it’s not easy,”_ Carlos says. _“I wish Agent Romanoff would visit again. She always seems to be able to talk to him in a way that we can’t.”_

“I’ll see if I can get a minute with her,” Jasper promises. “I’m sure she’d want to know.”

_“Well, for now let’s leave him alone for a while. Tomorrow he might be a little better, but we’ll call him before bed just to check in,”_ Cecil says. He leans forward on his elbows. _“For now, though… Let’s get back to this video double-date since we probably won’t get another chance until the stars align themselves. And **that’s** not going to happen for at **least** another three months.” _

They chuckle at the joke—or at least, Jemma _thinks_ it’s a joke—and get on with their conversation. She learns a great deal about Carlos and Cecil, about Night Vale, and finds herself absolutely charmed by the pair. Carlos isn’t really anything like his cousin; he’s far quieter, much more shy and soft-spoken, but every bit as driven. That they seem to have in common, dedication and loyalty. He and Cecil seem utterly devoted to one another and the story of their courtship brings a broad smile to her face. It’s terribly romantic, if a bit strange, but by the time they’ve got to say goodnight she finds herself hoping they can visit sooner rather than later.

_“I’m really glad we got this opportunity to talk,”_ Carlos says. _“And I’m glad you and Jasper are happy together.”_

“Likewise,” Jemma says, inclining her head. “I’m looking forward to meeting you in person.”

_“Well then, until next time, I suppose it’s time to say… Goodnight, Agents. Goodnight,”_ Cecil says with a toothy smile.

“Goodnight,” Jemma and Jasper say in unison, waving.

The two Night Vale residents wave back before the feed cuts out and they disconnect, leaving them alone in the apartment.

“So, what did you think?” Jasper asks, beginning to power the laptop down.

“Jasper,” Jemma says quietly, looking down at her hands folded in her lap. “Why did you stop me from mentioning Agent Coulson?”

She hears a slow, measured sigh from him. “You know why.”

“But why? Why does it have to be a secret? Why specifically can’t the Avengers know?” Jemma asks as she gestures towards the laptop. “Just because it’s an order doesn’t mean it’s the right thing to do, and if you ask me it’s doing a great deal more harm than good. Agent Barton is clearly still blaming himself. Don’t you think it would help him to know that Agent Coulson is alive? Don’t you think it would help _both_ of them?”

“Jemma, I understand what you’re trying to say. I do,” Jasper assures her. “But we keep secrets for a reason. Yes, sometimes those secrets will hurt people and sometimes we wish we could just tell the truth to the people we care about, but we don’t. We don’t because we know that even if the secrets hurt, the truth would hurt them a lot more. To protect the people we care about, sometimes we have to hurt them.”

Jemma takes a long look at him. She knows precisely what he’s doing. It’s that agent double-speak where he’s referring to the topic at hand and simultaneously trying to tell her about something he can’t talk about. With a sigh, she reaches out and takes his hands in hers.

“It scares me when you talk like that. I know you can’t talk about what you’re referring to and I know you have to keep more secrets than you’re comfortable with,” Jemma says, squeezing his hands. “I know I’m just flogging a dead horse, but I really do wish you would talk to me. I wish you didn’t have to carry this alone, whatever it is. But I also know that the time we have left together, like this, is very short and I don’t want to waste it talking about this. So let me just say one last thing: I forgive you. For whatever is going on, whatever you think is going to hurt me, I forgive you.”

It startles her to see how shaken her words seem to leave him. As he sits beside her, she can feel his hands begin to tremble, just slightly. He leans in and kisses her and there’s something desperate about the action, something that makes her afraid to let him go. He pulls away and kisses her forehead.

“Not yet,” he says quietly. “Don’t forgive me just yet.”

She has to fight back a shiver as a tingle travels down her spine. She wants to know why, why he thinks she shouldn’t forgive him. But she knows pressing him for answers won’t lead them anywhere and will only serve to frustrate them both. She doesn’t want that. She wants their last night together to be filled with something other than fear and uncertainty. So she shakes her head and tips her head back to kiss him again.

“Come to bed,” Jemma says. “This isn’t how I want to remember tonight.”

The empty bowls won’t make it to the sink until the following morning. And after they’ve made love, she lets him hold her close, like she’s the only thing keeping him anchored. Her fingers travel up and down his back, gently soothing him towards sleep. She lies awake and listens, waits until his slow, even breaths leave her sure he’s asleep before she kisses him on the head.

“I forgive you,” she whispers.

Jasper won’t hear it, but it’s important that she say it. With the words heard only by Baxter at the end of the bed and the four walls of his bedroom, she cozies up to him and does her best to stave off sleep. The sun will rise soon enough and when it does, she’ll have to leave him. But if she can lie here just a little longer, if she can get just a little more time with him, then a sleepless night is a fair price to pay.


	11. I Hate Myself for Loving You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have to acknowledge that in this line of work, death is a distinct possibility. Jemma just never imagined she'd have to deal with it like this.

She must have refreshed her inbox a hundred times in the last fifteen minutes alone, but still she’s no closer to any answers than when she’d begun. She’s nibbling at her lower lip, waiting anxiously for it to refresh once more when her alone time is interrupted.

“Simmons.”

She looks up quickly, tucking her phone guiltily behind her back as she does so. Not that she has any reason to be guilty, exactly, it’s just that she’s not particularly fond of the idea of anyone finding out just how long she’s been at this. Melinda stands in the doorway, looking as though she could care less what Jemma is doing, for which Jemma is, for once, immensely grateful.

“Yes? Agent May?”

“Coulson wants you in the conference room,” Melinda says, nodding over her shoulder.

“Oh. Yes, of course,” Jemma answers, hurrying along after her when the older agent begins to leave the room.

Given everything that’s just occurred, Jemma hardly finds it surprising that Phil would like a team meeting. Of course, Grant isn’t there to join them, but no doubt he’ll be debriefed once he returns. She worries for him—it can’t be easy having to take down someone he had looked up to, someone he had trusted. It seems there’s a lot of that in store for them; there’s no telling just how far HYDRA’s reach extends.

And running through her mind for hours has been one thing: a warning. The warning that things were about to change. Jasper had been right, just not in a way she could have ever anticipated. But what does that mean? What does it mean that he had known? Or… had he? What, exactly, had he been so careful to keep secret? Her calls to him have gone unanswered. Out of desperation, she’d even tried to email Carlos in the hopes that he might know something that she didn’t, but it’s been radio silence on all ends. Hopefully, once this meeting is over, she can ask Phil to look into the matter for her. It’s a favor she’s asked of him more than once and no doubt now, with S.H.I.E.L.D. in pieces, he’ll want Jasper at his back.

Jemma likes to be punctual, but even then it strikes her as odd that when Melinda is granted access to the locked conference room, the only person within it is Phil. It could just be that she’s the first to have been called, but it’s then that she notices Melinda hasn’t followed her into the room. Phil nods his thanks to Melinda before returning his attention to Jemma.

“Have a seat, please, Jemma.”

She hesitates, glancing behind her at Melinda for guidance. The other woman merely inclines her head towards the room before tapping a code into the wall panel, shutting the door between them. As the door swishes shut behind her, she casts her gaze towards the empty seats before her.

“I don’t suppose you’d rather wait until the others arrive?” she inquires.

“I didn’t ask for the others. This meeting is between you and me,” Phil says.

She freezes. Had he found out what she’d been doing here before everything had gone to hell? Is that what this is about? She knows he’d forbidden her from looking further into GH-325, but he couldn’t be that angry with her. Could he? Dipping her head in a polite nod, she slowly makes her way towards the proffered seat and quietly slips into it, awaiting whatever it is he has in store for her.

He doesn’t speak for a long stretch of time and she wonders if he’s allowing her to sweat it out. It certainly seems like the sort of tactic he’d use; patiently waiting in silence until she couldn’t stand it anymore and cracked. But when she looks closer, it seems to her that _he_ is the one under pressure. With a heavy sigh, he scrubs his hands across his face before looking to her with eyes which are red-rimmed and glassy. Of course he must be exhausted, given that he hasn’t given himself a moment to rest since all of this had begun, but there’s something else.

“I don’t want to do this. I have looked for every conceivable answer to tell me that what I’m seeing is wrong or that the facts have been misinterpreted,” Phil says at last. “I’ve looked for answers and the only ones I’ve found were the ones I’d hoped I wouldn’t.”

“Sir, if this is about Skye’s blood samples, I can ex—“

“No. No, this isn’t about that,” Phil says, looking troubled. He hesitates and that alone is enough to set off all sorts of warning bells in her mind. “Jemma… When was the last time you had contact with Jasper?”

She inhales sharply, the question twisting in her gut like a honed knife.

No, not this.

“Not… Not since before he was reassigned to the Lemurian Star,” Jemma says, hearing the way her voice shakes but unable to do anything to stop it. She can feel tears stinging her eyes as the question on the tip of her tongue drowns out anything else in her mind. But she doesn’t want to ask. For a moment, she wants to pretend that this isn’t happening, that he isn’t about to tell her what she’s so afraid of hearing. But she can only delay the inevitable so long. Swallowing thickly, she pulls herself together just enough to ask, “He’s… _gone_ , isn’t he?”

Phil’s expression never seems to settle. It shifts as rapidly as her emotions, mirroring the whirlwind inside her chest threatening to crack her ribcage wide open and tear her apart from the inside. She’s clinging to the hope that she’s wrong, that her gut instinct is leading her astray.

“Jasper was killed by an enemy combatant known as the Winter Soldier,” Phil says, his attempt at a neutral expression unable to filter out the pain his eyes held.

The breath she didn’t know she was holding comes out of her in a rush. Her whole body tingles numbly, her head filled with white noise. This can’t actually be happening. She knew he was involved in something dangerous, but… but he was always so capable, she never thought it would ever truly come to this. In the same sense that she understood that the work they all did was very dangerous and that any one of them could be hurt or worse at any time, it had always felt like a distant possibility. That it _could_ happen but that it _wouldn’t_ happen.

“There’s something else,” Phil says, his tone grim. “As I’ve said, I’ve combed through everything I could find, pieced together everything available to me and I wish I could tell you something other than the truth.”

“Sir,” Jemma says quietly, her voice barely a whisper. “Please.”

“According to the reports, Jasper Sitwell was a double agent working for HYDRA,” Phil says, his eyes never leaving hers. “This has been confirmed by numerous sources including Captain America and Agent Romanoff, both of whom were present at the time of his death.”

“That’s not true,” Jemma says fiercely.

“I don’t want it to be true either, but—“

“No. It _isn’t_ true,” Jemma says, hot, angry tears spilling down her cheeks as she shoots up from her seat. “You know him, sir, he wouldn’t… He would _never_ …”

“I thought I knew him,” Phil says softly. “But I thought I knew John Garrett, too.”

“That’s not… That’s not the same,” she retorts, even as she watches him tap the interactive tabletop and begin pulling up reports. “No. No, no, no, that’s not true. Stop it. _Stop it, now, you’re his friend, **stop**._ ”

Video feeds, reports, photographs, decrypted files, sound bites… Phil pulls up mountains and mountains of evidence to support his statement. And all she has is… what, exactly? Trust? She turns away, squeezing her eyes shut against the onslaught of images, trying to bring to mind something, anything, which might refute the evidence before her.

But he had warned her. He had said that things would change, drastically. He had said there would be a turning point. He had kept things from her, so many things, asked her not to forgive him and… oh. When they had gone to dinner. When Alexander Pierce had come to greet them. He had talked about… about all the hard work Jasper had done for him. For them.

For Hydra.

Suddenly it’s like there isn’t enough air in the room. Her hand flails out, reaching for purchase against the table as he knees buckle. She’s hardly aware of arms around her or of the fact that she doesn’t fall to the floor, but is rather gently lowered as she draws, quick, hiccupping breaths. She’s choking on tears and the air that she can’t seem to breathe as Phil kneels before her. He reaches up, his hands framing her face as his thumbs attempt to brush away the tears that won’t stop.

“Jemma,” he says, his voice cracking on her name, “I am so, so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Right then and there, she knows. Phil wouldn’t have come to her unless he were certain. Because he and Jasper were friends. Or… he’d thought they were. For everything they’d been through together, she knows he wouldn’t dream of telling her any of this unless he’d confirmed it for himself. With that realization, whatever hope she’d been clinging to is ripped out of her hands. A sob tears its way out of her as she feels that crushing weight in her chest cave in, leaving a gaping hole within her.

She closes the distance between them, throwing her arms about him and burying her face in his jacket. He doesn’t flinch as he had months ago. Instead, he holds her close and allows her to sob brokenly into his shoulder. She doesn’t know how long they stay that way, only that she cries herself hoarse until she’s exhausted and wrung out and raw. She sniffles and hiccups as he slowly rubs her back, doing what he can to soothe a hurt that they both know can’t be soothed.

“I’m going to keep looking,” he tells her. “I’ve known Jasper for damn near twenty years. Something doesn’t add up and I want to know what. Or maybe… it’s simply that I don’t want to accept that he would do this. Or that I can’t. But if there’s something to find, I promise you, I won’t stop looking until I find out what it is.”

“I should have known,” she sniffles. “I should have… found out or looked further into what he was working on or… or…”

“You couldn’t have known. None of us did,” Phil corrects her. “So don’t you dare waste one second blaming yourself. What he did to you is not your fault.”

No, she supposes it isn’t. But it still feels like it is. She had been, quite literally, sleeping with the enemy. He had played her and she had merrily gone along with it all. Had she just been his way of keeping tabs on their team? Had she unwittingly been his source, given him information that HYDRA could use against them? Phil says she is innocent in all of this, but she doesn’t feel it.

“…is it terrible of me to miss him?” she wonders after some time has passed.

“If it does, I guess that makes me terrible, too,” Phil admits.

You shouldn’t miss people who have betrayed you. She knows that. Logically, she knows that. If only convincing her heart of that fact were so simple.

* * *

Jemma sits cross legged on her bunk, doing everything she can to shelve whatever she’s feeling so she can get back to work. Because they need her now. None of them can afford to be sitting around like this, not when there’s so much to do. Phil had asked her to take some time to herself and she knows he doesn’t expect her to get back to work, but she expects it of herself. Yet, here she is, sitting in bed like they don’t have an organization to rebuild from the ashes.

A knock just outside her door draws her attention and she hurriedly begins sweeping wadded up tissues into the wastebasket, reluctant to let anyone see. Rising from her bed, she hurriedly wipes at her eyes and prays they don’t look too puffy as she opens the door. Leo and Skye greet her, holding a plate full of sandwiches and an armful of water bottles like some sort of peace offering.

“Fitz and I were just about to eat lunch,” Skye says, holding up the plate. “We thought you might want in.”

Jemma offers them a tight smile. “Thank you, but I’m not hungry.”

“Jemma, you haven’t eaten in almost two days,” Leo says, firmly, but not unkindly. “It’s just a sandwich.”

Jemma has a hundred and one excuses prepared, but as she opens her mouth to deliver them, she stops. This isn’t healthy, what she’s doing. She can’t just lock herself away from the people who care about her. If she lets this destroy her, then they’ve already lost. So instead, she gives them a little nod of her head and steps aside to grant them entry.

“Alright,” she says.

It’s cramped with the three of them in there, but Jemma can’t say she minds. Sandwiched between Skye and Leo as they all eat in silence, she finds that being around them isn’t as difficult as she’d thought it might be. She’s needed her space, that’s something she’s not going to deny, but part of her had been ashamed to face these people, her found family. Because she had been fooled, been played, been taken in, and she’d never seen it coming. Beyond just hurting, it was mortifying. Her two friends have long since finished their sandwiches as she sits with half of hers still left. As much as she knows she needs to eat, even a few small bites are enough to turn her stomach.

“Well, when you look back on it, you shot a HYDRA agent in the chest. So technically you got a jump on it before everyone else,” Skye says, breaking the silence.

Jemma can’t stop the teary laugh the comment draws. That’s Skye’s way. Where others would tiptoe around the problem, Skye will find a way to spin it into something else. She isn’t afraid to be blunt, but she knows how to read people, how to bring up a topic that she knows needs to be talked out without stepping on anyone’s toes.

“I just can’t help feeling… well, ridiculous, I suppose. Ashamed,” Jemma says, picking at the bread of her sandwich. “I could have put us all in danger.”

“That’s not your fault. That’s his,” Leo is quick to assure her. “Just because you were… close… doesn’t mean you could have known any more than the rest of us.”

“I know, but I just wonder,” Jemma says, shaking her head. “How much of it was just an act? How much of it did I fall for?”

“Beating yourself up for something that wasn’t your fault won’t do you any good,” Skye says, patting her back. “It sounds like he had everyone fooled. Coulson and May have known him for, what, years? Even they had no idea.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Jemma agrees quietly.

Perhaps it’s a bit conceited of her to assume she’d been closer to Jasper than they had, but she still can’t help but feel that the circumstances are very different. She’s sure that Phil and Melinda knew Jasper in a way that she didn’t—and perhaps never could—but in the same sense, she knows she’d seen a part of him that they hadn’t. That’s what makes her wonder. Had he been so talented an actor that he could seemingly open himself up to her, all to maintain his cover? You’d practically have to be a sociopath to pull that sort of thing off and he seemed anything but. He was warm, kind, empathetic and understanding. But Victoria Hand had said that they could be, hadn’t she? _They make you like them._ Was it all that strange to think that they could make you love them as well?

It still feels wrong. Somehow, it doesn’t seem right, regardless of the facts in front of her. Hadn’t Phil said something about it was bothering him? But maybe that was just denial. Maybe that’s what they were both experiencing right now.

“You still love him, don’t you?” Leo asks quietly, his eyes dragging up to meet hers.

Her eyes sting with tears again. It’s that obvious. Everyone can see it. She’s never felt so ashamed in her entire life.

“I know I shouldn’t, but I just…”

She can’t finish the sentence. She bows her head and shakes it, trying to will away the tears which have started to flow again. She feels them lean into her, pressing her between them, their arms around her providing a safe, sheltered cocoon, and all she can do is cry harder. They hug her between them, not a word of judgment passing their lips as they let her cry out her pain. Skye strokes her hair and Leo whispers soft words of love and encouragement in her ear.

“It’s alright. No one’s blaming you for any of it,” he tells her. “We’re all here for you and we’re not going anywhere.”

“I need to get back to work,” Jemma says, her voice clogged with tears. “I should be doing something to help.”

“When you’re ready,” Skye says. “Coulson seemed pretty adamant about giving you your space.”

“But now’s not the time… We can’t afford to,” Jemma argues. “We need all the help we can get and I’m just sitting here doing nothing.”

“You’re taking time to get your head on straight,” Leo corrects her. “There’ll be plenty of work to get back to later. Have you talked to your parents?”

She shakes her head.

“It might make you feel a little better to give them a call. Let them know you’re alright. I called mum a few hours ago myself,” he says. “I’m glad I did.”

“And then get some sleep,” Skye tacks on, fingers gently combing through her hair. “Because I’m pretty sure you haven’t had much of that.”

“We’re perfectly happy to give you your space if you need it,” Leo says, a hand on her shoulder, “but if you need us, we’re here. Remember that. We’re always here; that’s not going to change, no matter what else does. They can’t take that away from us.”

It’s certainly something to be thankful for. While S.H.I.E.L.D. had been falling down around them, they’d had each other. Given the epic collapse of the organization, with traitors emerging left and right and allies being struck down beneath them, it’s a wonder that their little group had emerged mostly unscathed.

“Thank you. Both of you,” Jemma says, moving to sit up. Both of them release her from their hold, but hover close by. She looks at the half-eaten sandwich on the bedside table and thinks of Leo’s suggestion of calling her parents and Skye’s recommendation of sleep. “I think I’ll be taking your advice, actually.”

“Coulson will be glad to hear it,” Leo says, shaking his head as he stands.

Jemma bristles at that. “Why? Did he send you in here?”

“Come on, seriously? You think he has to _tell_ us to come in here?” Skye says, arching an eyebrow and offering her a lopsided smile. “We were just waiting for the right time to come to you. But it hasn’t stopped Coulson from asking us every five minutes if you’d spoken to either of us.”

“I suppose I should speak to him myself at some point,” Jemma admits, still sniffling absently. “I think I ruined one of his shirts.”

“Somehow, I think he’ll live,” Skye says, leaning into her and giving her a playful nudge. Her voice drops in volume as she says, “He’s just worried. We all are.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jemma says, giving them both a small, but honest smile. “Honestly. I just… need a bit of time to process all of this, is all.”

“Well, we’ll be here if you need anything,” Leo says as Skye gets up to join him. “I mean it. Just a minute away. If you need anything, anything at all, just call us.”

“Thank you,” Jemma says, wiping at her eyes. “I will.”

They seem reluctant to leave her like this, so she offers them a reassuring smile and a nod of her head, hoping to get them moving. It seems to do the trick, as they at last leave her alone once more. She’s been grateful for their company and their support, but she’s going to need a few minutes to compose herself for the phone call she’s about to make. It’s not as though she hasn’t noticed the dozens of missed calls, it’s just that she hasn’t had the time to devote any energy to anything beyond the situation she’s currently embroiled in.

She wants to speak to them. She wants them to know she’s alright, to ease that fear that they undoubtedly have that something terrible has happened to her. She wants to hear their voices again, even if it’s only to talk about some silly thing her father has done at the bakery. So she picks up her phone, sits back against her bunk and dials her parents’ number.

It hardly makes it to the second ring before the call is picked up and she hears her father’s anxious voice greeting her with, _“Jem?”_

“Hi, Dad,” Jemma breathes out.

She hears her father turn his head away to call to her mother.

_“Nancy! Nan, it’s Jemma! Pick up the other line!”_ Greg calls before focusing his attention back on his daughter. _“We saw it all on the news. Everything. Are you alright? Maggie had a call from Leo, but when we didn’t get one from you, we… Oh, Jem, we’ve been worried sick.”_

“I know. I know, I’m sorry I didn’t call,” Jemma apologizes. “It’s just been—“

_“Jemma? Oh thank god,”_ Nancy interrupts as they hear her pick up the other line. _“Maggie said her boy had told her something had happened with you but we didn’t know what. Are you safe? Have you been hurt?”_

“Hi, Mum,” Jemma says, unable to keep her eyes from watering up at hearing both her parents again. “It’s… It’s a bit complicated. But I’m safe. I’m not hurt and I’m with my team.”

_“Sweetheart, we’re just so thankful to hear from you,”_ Greg says, sounding decidedly teary as well. _“You’re sure you’re safe? Some of the things they’ve been saying on the telly…”_

“I’m positive. Agent Coulson and Agent May are keeping a close eye on all of us,” Jemma assures them. “How much do you know?”

_“They’re saying S.H.I.E.L.D. has collapsed. That it was infiltrated by HYDRA,”_ Nancy declares. _“Frankly, none of us are sure what to believe. It can’t have completely collapsed if some of you are still working, can it?”_

“Right now we’re just trying to reach out and see who’s left. HYDRA’s corruption went all the way to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s core so at the moment… we don’t know who’s left. The Director is dead and many of our outposts have been captured,” Jemma says, shaking her head. “I don’t know _what_ will become of it all.”

_“If things go belly up, you come home to us, Jem, understand? Bring your whole team, you know we’ve got the space since it’s just me and your Mum now,”_ Greg declares seriously. _“We don’t mind putting them up until things get sorted.”_

“I’m sure they’ll appreciate the offer,” Jemma says earnestly. “But for now, we need to see where this will go and what we can salvage.”

_“We understand, dear. You do what you have to, just know that we’ll be here for you when you need us,”_ Nancy says. In an instant, she suddenly transforms into the no-nonsense barrister that Jemma remembers being unable to hide the truth from and asks, _“Now what’s happened to you? Leo said something had happened but wouldn’t say what.”_

Jemma doesn’t know how to say it. This isn’t how she pictured telling them. She’d started making plans to bring Jasper home with her, had even begun writing a list of ways to bring it up to her parents. Now all of that is just another thorn in her side.

“I’m not sure exactly how to go about saying this, but I… I had been seeing someone. A S.H.I.E.L.D. agent,” Jemma says, willing her voice to remain level. “And… he died. In the attack on Washington. I just received the news yesterday.”

_“Oh, Jem, I’m so sorry,”_ her father says, voicing the heartbreak that she’s trying so desperately to hold back. _“You never mentioned anyone, we had no idea…”_

“I had planned to tell you. Actually, I was making plans with him to bring him home to you when I came to visit in a few months, but… I suppose I just… I just never got around to telling you,” Jemma says swallowing thickly.

_“He wasn’t just someone you were seeing, was he?”_ Nancy asks, her voice understanding and sympathetic. _“He was more to you than that. Oh, Jemma.”_

“You would have liked him,” Jemma says, even as the tears begin again.

She can’t tell them what they say he was. She can’t bring herself to admit that just yet. In time, perhaps she will be able to tell them, but only after she’s accepted it herself—and she knows that isn’t going to happen any time soon. So she takes their tearful condolences, their consolation, their love, and focuses on that instead. Jasper is gone and she’ll have to come to terms with that, but right now she’s surrounded by people who love her—whether they’re here or an ocean away—and she knows that with them, she will overcome this. As insurmountable as it seems now, she will come out on top.

* * *

It’s a still, cool morning when they flee the Hub with Colonel Talbot hot on their heels. When Skye begins erasing their identities, Jemma contacts her parents once more. She explains the situation and asks them to be strong for her, to trust that she will be alright. Because she will be.

Her eyes are dry and hard as she stares out the window.

She’s done crying.

She’s done being hurt.

Jemma Simmons is ready for war.


	12. No One's Here to Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cost of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s secrets continues to rise and sooner or later they're going to have to pay. When a few unexpected guests crash the party while they remain sequestered at a hotel, Jemma gets a glimpse of just how much they've already paid.

It’s hardly the Ritz, but after everything that’s transpired in the past few days, they’re just thankful to have a place to lay their heads for the night. Jemma sits at the edge of the pool beside Skye, the two of them slowly kicking their legs in the cool water. Behind them, Leo and Trip are discussing something or other, but they’re on the outer rim of her attention. Presently, she’s more focused on Skye and on the unlikely series of events that have made the bond between them all the stronger.

“I mean, go figure, right?” Skye says with a snorted laugh. “You find a nice guy, he seems really into you and **BAM**. He’s with HYDRA.”

“I’m having a hard time believing it myself,” Jemma sighs.

She tilts her head back and looks up at the night sky—the view isn’t as nice as it is from the Bus. She thinks of Jasper. She thinks of Grant. That’s twice she’s been fooled now, twice she’s had the wool pulled over her eyes. She’d spent days in denial, looking for some clue that Jasper wasn’t what they claimed he was. A part of her didn’t want to let go of the man she’d fallen in love with, but after Grant had revealed himself, something in her had gone cold and hardened. Something had died. The hope she’d been holding onto—a flickering candle light she’d sheltered from the howling wind—had been snuffed out.

“They really do make you believe them, don’t they?” she asks.

“I never saw it coming,” Skye says, leaning back. “I mean to fake all of that? All the shit we’ve been through together? Everything? You’d have to be a sociopath. And he thought… I mean the grossest part was that he thought I’d still want to be with him. How could anyone want to be with that?”

Jemma nods in agreement, but doesn’t offer an answer. Skye opens her mouth, perhaps understanding the implications of what she’s just said, but closes her mouth just as quickly. She leans towards Jemma, placing a hand on her back.

“I didn’t mean… I mean Ward and I were… it was different,” Skye says.

“No, no, you’re right. But I appreciate your concern,” Jemma assures her with a faint smile. “We were all fooled. Some of us more so than others, but I understand now. This wasn’t something any of us could have predicted. We just have to… move forward. As hard as that is.”

“Right,” Skye says in agreement. She looks down, watching the water as it ripples gently with their kicking. “We’ve still got us.”

“Yes. That we still have,” Jemma says, smiling when Skye glances up and catches her eye.

She knows this is hard for Skye. They’d all seen the way Skye and Grant were drawn to each other and knowing that she’s not alone in having been tricked in this way helps ease Jemma’s guilt somewhat. Though, she’s thankful at least that Skye never had the chance to become any more involved with Grant beyond what they’d had. Having to see Skye go through something like that… she’s not sure she could have handled it. It hurts immeasurably to have to go through this herself, but having to watch the other woman suffer the same would be unbearable. She would never want to see Skye in that kind of pain.

This event has drawn them together in a way she’d never expected, but in many ways, there’s a comforting feeling in having them with her in the trenches. This is dangerous for all of them. If there had been a time for fun and games, it’s long since passed. The safety she feels right now, surrounded by the people she loves, is a luxury. She knows that it’s not something she will be feeling very often in days to come, so he has to treasure it while it lasts.

“I’m sorry for what he did to you,” Jemma tells Skye. “I’m sorry you were alone.”

Skye shrugs one shoulder. “Yeah, but you guys came for me. That’s what we do, right? It’s kind of our thing.”

“Yes. We look after one another,” Jemma agrees.

“Anyone can look out for someone,” Skye corrects her. “I may not be the expert on families, but I’d say what we have is pretty damn close, wouldn’t you?”

“As someone with plenty of family experience, I can say that’s an accurate comparison,” Jemma says with a smile. “You know, I… Well, I’m my parents’ only daughter. When I was little, I always wanted a sister and if I’d ever had one, I can say that I could only hope she would have been something like you.”

Skye smiles at her; does so in a way that makes Jemma believe that, as bad as things are, if they can hold onto this, then they can make it through. She’s not sure where exactly they’re hoping to make it to, but wherever that is, they can make it. Skye hugs her like a sister might and, really, they are that, aren’t they? When it comes right down to it, they’re more of a family than any of them have realized. And now, with their identities erased, all they’ve got left is each other.

She’d explained to her parents, of course. Phil had afforded them that opportunity. As much as it pained her to have to do it, she knows her family will be safe without ties to her. So long as they have any ties to S.H.I.E.L.D., they will be hunted and she can’t bear to put her parents or her brothers or their families in danger because of her. Because she’s not giving up. She could leave now, she knows, but she can’t _really_ leave. Not when these people, her second family, can’t leave. They have the courage to stand against HYDRA and she’ll stand with them, every step of the way, no matter how hard it gets. No matter how much it costs them, they won’t back down.

“Anyone order pizza?”

Jemma and Skye pull apart at the sound of the voice and the four of them look across the pool to find the source. Jemma knows that voice. She’s heard it before. And there, walking through the gated entrance, holding a stack of pizza boxes and accompanied by a gorgeous redhead, is Clint Barton. Mouth agape, Jemma pulls her feet from the pool and clambers to a standing position.

“Agent Barton!” she calls, quickly making her way around the pool with the others on her heels.

“Agent Barton? As in Clint Barton? As in Hawkeye?” Trip inquires.

“Just ‘Clint’ is fine,” Clint assures them. He nods towards the woman at his side. “This is Nat.”

“ _The_ Natasha Romanoff?” Leo adds, sounding shocked.

“My, my, you’re all certainly easily impressed,” Natasha notes as Clint sets the pizza boxes down on one of the poolside tables.

“What… What are you doing here? How did you find us? Where have you both been?” Jemma asks, the questions coming out of her like coins from a winning slot machine. “Does Agent Coulson know you’re coming? Do you _know_ about Agent Coulson? Oh, _no_ , please tell me you know about him…”

“It’s fine, they’re both well aware that he’s alive.”

Jemma hears another familiar voice, only this time it’s accompanied by a shiver running down her spine. When she sees Andy King walking through the gate, time seems to slow down. The last time she’d seen this woman, she had been in the company of Alexander Pierce. He’d said that she and Jasper were doing good work for him. Jasper had been revealed as a HYDRA agent, which could only mean one thing. The realization sets her heart pounding, the sound of her rushing blood thrumming in her ears.

“Don’t come any closer,” Jemma snaps, her whole body rigid with tension.

Andy stops where she is, looking nonplussed by Jemma’s greeting. She passively raises her hands in the air, seeming relaxed; almost as though she’d been anticipating this kind of welcome. The implications make Jemma’s stomach turn. Leo, Skye and Trip shoot her curious looks until Jemma explains.

“Don’t let her any closer, she’s with HYDRA,” Jemma says, trying to tamp down the anger bubbling up inside her.

“Because she was partners with… oh, god,” Leo says faintly, figuring out exactly what she just had.

“Was. I _was_ with HYDRA,” Andy corrects her. “I’m not here as one of them.”

“Don’t trust her,” Jemma says. “Agent Barton, get away from her. Whatever she’s told you, it isn’t true.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here,” Clint says.

To her shock, he takes a step to the side, shifting protectively in front of Andy, who still stands with her hands raised in the air. Distrust crackles in the air between the two groups as tension ignites with the simple action. Trip mirrors Clint’s move, shifting his stance so that he’s shielding Jemma from the three newcomers.

“If Agent Simmons thinks she’s with HYDRA, I’m going to trust her judgment,” he says evenly. “Which means I’m not letting any of you, Avengers or not, take another step closer until you give me good reason.”

“Everyone stand down.”

Phil’s voice breaks the stand-off, calling all their attention to him. He and Melinda have finally emerged from one of their hotel rooms, whatever discussion they’d been having apparently finished, at least for the time being.

“There’s no reason for concern,” Phil says. “Everyone here can be trusted. We’re all on the same side.”

“You got my text?” Natasha says, nodding towards Melinda.

“I did,” Melinda replies. “But it wouldn’t have hurt you to give us a little more warning.”

Natasha shrugs. “I thought you liked surprises.”

“You know I _hate_ surprises.”

“Silly me.”

In the middle of this, Clint has abandoned his post by Andy in favor of striding purposely towards Phil. For a moment, Jemma is sure that the archer means to strike the older man, but at the last possible second, any anger she’d been reading off of him evaporates as he pulls Phil into a tight, brotherly embrace. Phil doesn’t fight it. If anything, he gives in quite readily, his arms wrapped securely around the other man. Natasha touches Andy briefly on the shoulder, encouraging her to lower her arms, before she makes her way towards her fellow Avenger. The second she’s within arm’s reach, she’s hauled into their embrace, making for an awkward, if affectionate, tangle of arms.

For a moment, Jemma is caught off guard by the scene. She has found Phil to be, in the time that they’ve known each other, one who is more reserved in his emotions. He’s a private man, only opening himself up so far. Yet here, now, she watches him pull these people to him with open arms and sees so many, many things in him. Clint pulls back enough to grip Phil by the lapels of his jacket, shaking him briefly as he says something that she can’t hear and there is such _pain_ on their faces, mingled with such love that she hardly recognizes the man who’s been leading their team for months.

But she hasn’t forgotten their other guest. When she turns her attention back to Andy, she finds the young woman watching them with what seems to be a sense of longing. She’s different than Jemma remembers. Pale, gaunt, worn. Hunted, perhaps. Not at all the put-together agent that Jasper had introduced her to. Trip still hasn’t moved from his spot before Jemma, eyeing the potential threat before them.

“If it’ll make you feel more comfortable, you’re free to search me for weapons,” Andy declares.

“That won’t be necessary,” Phil calls, apparently having noticed what was transpiring. Clint and Natasha pull away as everyone’s attention is drawn to the only person standing singled out. “I know who you are.”

Andy gives him a long, meaningful stare before she asks, “Do you?”

“It… was explained to me,” Phil replies heavily.

Jemma watches the two of them carefully as they watch each other. There’s some sort of unspoken conversation happening between the two of them, a sort that she can’t translate. There’s something she’s missing, something that’s right in front of their eyes. She reviews what she knows about each of them, looking to piece together something that might give her a clue as to what’s going on. Because Phil wouldn’t just accept a HYDRA agent—or _former_ HYDRA agent, if she’s to be believed—into the fold without good reason. And she trusts that he has good reason. But what that reason is…

And then it hits her. The realization dawns on her so suddenly that for a moment she’s struck dumb by it. It seems too strange, too outlandish a possibility. And yet it all makes sense.

“Oh my god,” she breathes, a hand over her mouth.

“Jemma?” Leo intones worriedly, a hand on her shoulder.

“You said your father had died in New York. I hadn’t thought to consider…” Jemma babbles. She looks up at Andy, flabbergasted. “Your last name isn’t King.”

There’s a crooked smile on the other woman’s face as she says, “You’re the cleverest witch of your age I’ve ever met, Hermione.”

Even then. Even then when she smiles, the evidence is so clear. So _abundantly_ clear in the way her eyes crinkle at the corners and how she never quite seems to give you a complete smile and how had she never realized?

“Someone want to explain what’s going on here?” Skye asks, shooting an impatient glance between the assembled individuals.

“’King’ is one of many aliases created for my safety by Director Fury. Growing up with S.H.I.E.L.D. made it something of a necessity,” Andy explains. “My last name is actually ‘Coulson.’ Your team leader is my father.”

There’s a long stretch of silence where no one seems to know what to say. Most of them seem to be standing there, waiting for something to happen. Jemma certainly is. Frankly, her mind is still reeling from yet another addition to the insanity that’s becoming increasingly common as the days go on. Perhaps it’s no surprise that it’s Skye who breaks the silence.

“You have a _kid_?” Skye demands, whirling towards Phil.

“I didn’t know,” Phil says, rubbing a hand across his forehead, almost self-consciously. He sighs heavily, looking about as tired as the young woman who shares his last name. “Or perhaps it’s more correct to say that I didn’t remember.”

“Sir,” Jemma says hesitantly, “are you saying…?”

“Before we get into that, let’s all go inside and sit down,” Phil says, looking to each of them in turn. “From what I understand, we have a lengthy conversation ahead of us.”

There’s a quiet, hesitant shuffling as they all gradually obey the unstated but implicitly understood command, disguised as a polite suggestion. Clint gathers up the pizza boxes once again as they begin to reconvene in the hotel room. Jemma hangs towards the back of the group, waiting for everyone to file in, until she realizes Andy is doing the same. Their eyes meet amidst the group and Jemma’s gut clenches painfully. Pulling her eyes away, she hurries on ahead, inserting herself between the safety of Skye and Leo and not looking back.

* * *

It’s decidedly cramped, even without the elephant in the room. Somehow, despite the closed quarters, they’ve managed to separate into groups. Melinda and Phil sit together, side by side. Across from them, Andy sits sandwiched between Clint and Natasha. Skye and Trip sit on one of the twin beds while Jemma and Leo claim the other, the four of them having the best view of the bunch.

“If someone doesn’t start asking questions or answering them, I’m just going to go ahead and start myself,” Skye says after an uncomfortable length of silence.

“I’m really not sure who should be explaining what to who at this point,” Phil admits.

“Why don’t we start with why we’re here?” Clint suggests.

“Considering that’s something I’d like to know as well, I think that’s as good a place as any,” Phil agrees.

Clint nudges Andy with his elbow and she looks up, startled from whatever thoughts she’d been having. Jemma has noticed her gaze constantly wandering between Phil and the floor, like she’s afraid to be caught looking at him.

“You want me to explain or…?” Clint offers.

“No, I think… maybe I can just get most of the points we need to cover in one go,” Andy says, shifting in her seat. “Alright, so… Well, Jemma, as you guessed, I was with HYDRA. Was. That’s very important. Because I’m not now, anymore. I never really was, but that’s… I mean, I _was_ but I wasn’t, you know?”

No one says a word.

“Maybe back it up a bit, Bambi,” Natasha suggests gently.

Andy seems to deflate somewhat at that.

“Right. I’m sorry, let me start over,” she apologizes. She takes a deep breath, centering herself, before beginning again. “So this really all starts with New York. It starts with Loki and the Chitauri invasion. That was when everything changed.”

Her eyes stray back towards Phil.

“When you died, it was… I took it hard. I left S.H.I.E.L.D. for a while to get my head on straight, spent some time with Clint in Night Vale before heading out on my own,” Andy explains. “That’s when John found me. To me he was always Uncle John—because like everyone from S.H.I.E.L.D. who was around when I was growing up, he was family. You two had slowly drifted apart over the past ten years or so, but I didn’t think it was all that strange when he approached me. Death does that. Brings people back together. Sometimes for better, sometimes for worse. As you can probably guess, this wasn’t for better.”

“He recruited you,” Trip says. “Like he recruited Ward.”

“Not exactly. Although he manipulated me the same way he manipulated Grant,” Andy replies. “He used dad’s—“

Jemma watches the other woman stumble over the word, her eyes darting to Phil anxiously before pulling away. How difficult it must be, she thinks, having all those memories of someone who has none of you. How difficult it must be to have no memory of someone who has over two decades worth of you.

“He used Agent Coulson’s death to get close to me. He spent time with me, got close enough for me to drop my guard, so when he said he had something to show me, I didn’t question him. I just followed. What he had to show me was HYDRA. His plans. Where they were headed. Maybe it was some lingering sense of affection, but he tried to persuade me to join them of my own free will. Of course, I refused. And at that point, it didn’t seem that he’d have anything to blackmail me with; I was at a low enough point that I didn’t think that I stood to lose anything. I was wrong.”

She pauses, as though she doesn’t want to have to continue. Jemma watches as she folds her arms over her chest and frowns, her mouth drawing into a thin line. The action is so unspeakably Phil that for a moment, Jemma forgets the fact that she doesn’t want to trust this woman. Because Phil is watching her, seeing the same things that Jemma is, and like Jemma, it’s for the first time.

“It turns out that if you’re enough of an asset to them, they won’t waste time trying to blackmail you. Instead they make you… comply,” Andy says slowly.

“Comply,” Leo echoes. “I don’t understand.”

“They brainwash you,” Clint fills him in. “They unmake you.”

“They have a method, a machine that they bring you to and it’s… They break you down. You’re still you, but they change things, tweak things. They go in and rewrite your code,” Andy adds. Her expression has turned distinctly uncomfortable, but she continues regardless. Her attention shifts to Phil, her expression morphing into something almost apologetic. “I want to say I held out for a pretty long while. In reality, it was about three weeks, I think. What they did… I won’t go into details, but I’ll just say it works. When they know where your breaking point is, it’s just a matter of time.”

“Brainwashing, though?” Jemma murmurs. It just seems so outlandish an idea, that they could strap you into a machine and reformat you like a hard drive. But then, if they could wipe Phil’s memories, she supposes this wasn’t all that more strange. She perks up as a thought occurs to her, her heart beating quicker at the possibility. “Jasper. They did the same to him.”

Andy huffs a quick laugh, a small smile on her face. “You’re quick; and you’re right. But his story is even more complicated than mine. See, Jasper has always been cleverer, but I’m quicker. When he discovered I was with HYDRA, he sent word to Director Fury that I couldn’t be trusted. But not long after I made a discovery of my own: Jasper had been working as the Director’s inside man for years. I assumed he was with them as I was, but in reality, he was merely playing the part.”

“He makes a great patsy,” Phil says, the realization in his tone colored with a soft undercurrent of fondness.

“The best,” Andy agrees with a smile. Jemma watches it fall away from her face almost as quickly as it had appeared as the woman continues with her tale. “It took him years to discover that Pierce was at the heart of it and when he did, you can bet he didn’t waste any time informing Director Fury. He didn’t know I’d been watching him, shadowing him. I intercepted that message. While he was waiting for orders, I was busy already moving forward with my plan. Jemma, that weekend you spent together was the last time he was himself. I was waiting for him in his apartment after he dropped you off and… I took him down. I brought him in and gave them everything they needed to break him. Because Jasper has been my friend, my S.O., my partner and my family and no one knows him better than I do; I handed him over to them and helped them do to him what they had done to me. Actually, I say I helped them but in reality I was instrumental in the process. By the time you called him in to assist on your mission in finding the Clairvoyant, he was already theirs.”

Jemma doesn’t realize she’s been holding her breath until it leaves her in a great, shaky exhale. It makes sense; the work he couldn’t talk about, the secrets he had to keep, the danger he seemed to be constantly dodging. All of it makes sense now. The news creates a new wound as it helps to begin to heal another. He’s still gone, but his memory doesn’t have to be tarnished by HYDRA. He won’t have to be remembered as a traitor who sold them all out. He was the good man she had always believed him to be.

He had been fighting the war they find themselves embroiled in now, long before any of them even knew it was happening. And for his trouble, for everything he had been through and sacrificed, this was how it had ended.

“Even I was convinced,” Natasha says. “We all were. Without Nick around to tell us any differently, we had to make our own call. How long you knew someone or how close you were didn’t matter; people we’ve worked with for years turned out to be HYDRA. I wasn’t taking any chances and he didn’t give me any reason to.”

“I understand. In your place I likely would have done the same. But… I know you were with him when he was killed,” Jemma says, willing her breathing to remain calm and even despite her racing heart. “Agent Coulson told me he was killed by someone called the Winter Soldier. Do you know anything about him?”

Natasha and Andy share a brief moment of eye contact following the question and Jemma has the feeling they both know a great deal. How much they’re willing to tell, however, she can’t be certain.

“He’s a ghost,” Natasha says with a shrug of her shoulder. “We’ve crossed paths over the years, but this was the closest I’ve ever been. If you’re wondering where he is now or if I can give you the answer to that, I can’t. But I can tell you that Steve is looking for him.”

“And he isn’t the only one looking for someone,” Andy adds.

“So who is it that _you’re_ looking for?” Skye wants to know.

“Jasper,” Andy replies.

“We’ve got… Well, Andy’s got reason to believe that he’s still alive,” Clint explains.

“But you don’t,” Phil fishes, looking between Clint and Natasha. “You don’t share in that belief.”

“Phil, I trust her the same way I’ve always trusted you. But with something like this… I’ve got my doubts,” Clint answers. “I’ve been away from it all for the past two years. Everything I knew and understood S.H.I.E.L.D. to be is either gone or was never really there, so I honestly don’t know what to believe at this point. But she’s got a hunch and that’s a good enough reason for me to follow her.”

“It’s not a hunch,” Andy says insistently.

“Perhaps you could explain, then,” Jemma says, cutting through their chatter. “Because from what I was told it didn’t seem… Given his manner of death I find it unlikely that he could have survived.”

“See, you say that, but _he’s_ sitting here, isn’t he?” Andy asks, pointing at Phil. “I saw him on a slab, so you can’t say that this is impossible.”

“Riiiiiiiiiiiight,”Skye says, stretching the word out as she slowly nods her head. “But that’s… kind of a different set of circumstances.”

Jemma watches as the freckled woman huffs in frustration, jumping up from her seat. She seems full of some sort of manic energy, her eyes too bright in the dimly lit room. It’s at that moment that Jemma has to wonder, just how does one overcome brainwashing? And what had she done to do so? Is she even stable at this moment in time? Are they all sitting here entertaining the ravings of a madwoman? Perhaps all these things should take precedence, but a selfish part of Jemma is more concerned with hearing this theory out. She knows she shouldn’t be jumping at even the slightest chance that Jasper not only isn’t a traitor, but is alive as well, and yet she doesn’t stop herself from doing so.

“Just let me explain,” Andy says, holding up her hands in an apparent effort to keep them all quiet. “Okay, so, the thing about HYDRA is that, like S.H.I.E.L.D., it has assets. When you’re an asset, it means that they’ll go through certain lengths to make sure you don’t happen to expire while you’re still of use to them. Now, how many of you know what an LMD is?”

“Oh,” Leo says, raising his hand like an eager student. “They’re Life Model Decoys. Basically they’re synthetic avatars meant to emulate human likeness. Hair, DNA, fingerprints, you name it and they’re basically indistinguishable from the real thing. But from what I understand, Tony Stark’s said that they’re years from completing the first working prototype.”

“Well, let it be known that Tony Stark doesn’t know everything. Thank god,” Andy says, the latter sentence muttered under her breath. “And he’s hardly the smartest the world has to offer. It’s true, before New York he made a statement he still had years of work ahead of him, but that was before the Chitauri so kindly left behind bits of their technology. Technology that S.H.I.E.L.D., and therefore HYDRA, made a mission of recovering. Just prior to being recruited to your team, Grant Ward was on a mission to recover a very particular artifact: a Chitauri Neural Link. This particular piece of technology was the key to unlocking the potential of the LMD. By utilizing the neural link, the bridge between host and avatar was able to be crossed.”

“And the reason you’re telling us all this,” Melinda cuts in, eyeing Andy critically, “is because you believe that when Sitwell was killed by the Winter Soldier, it may not have been him, but an LMD made to look like him.”

“I have every reason to believe that,” Andy says, nodding in agreement. “He was an asset of the greatest importance. They wouldn’t risk sending him into the field for an operation where he could be taken out. They were smart. They’d waited years—decades—to come out of the shadows. I’m nearly positive that they would have had that kind of insurance on an asset as valuable as Jasper.”

“But you don’t know that for a fact,” Trip says.

“Well, no,” Andy admits, her shoulders drooping slightly. She bucks up an instant later, her posture straightening with an apparent conviction, eyes like Phil’s focused and gleaming with determination. “But I don’t need to know for certain. This is the sort of thing that you can’t know for sure. Belief is enough.”

“Is it?” Phil wonders aloud.

Andy narrows her eyes at him in accusation. “It certainly always seemed enough for you to make bad decisions.”

“That’s a little unfair,” Phil counters.

“Not really,” Andy says, her fingers twitching as her arms lie at her sides. “I know Jasper and I know HYDRA and I’m _telling you_ that I believe he’s still out there. I came here to ask you not to give up on him just yet. If you just give me some time, I can get him back. I can fix this. So please, please don’t give up on him.”

The tail end of the statement is directed at Phil and at Jemma especially. It isn’t just determination that Jemma is reading in the other woman’s stance: it’s desperation. Jemma would love nothing more than to say that, yes, she believes her and no, she hasn’t given up on Jasper. But she’s wary. Especially when considering the woman openly admitted to being an agent of HYDRA—regardless of how much that was or was not against her will.

“I think that perhaps we should discuss this while you wait outside,” Phil says, rising from his seat.

Andy opens her mouth to offer a rebuttal, but shuts it just as quickly before offering a curt nod. “I understand.”

Clint and Natasha rise with her as she moves towards the door, but Phil holds up a hand to stop them. Jemma sees Natasha raise her eyebrows at the gesture, as though she’s surprised he’s really trying that on them. In that moment, Jemma can see just how much keeping secrets have cost them; it’s cost Phil the trust of the people he loves and it’s cost Jasper his life. What else they stand to lose because of their secrets, she’s afraid to find out.

“No, you two stay,” Phil says. He inhales deeply before letting the breath out slowly, looking to the two assets with a pleading expression as he adds on, “Please.”

Clint shifts his stance, appearing uncomfortable, but he doesn’t make any further movements towards the door. He turns his head, nodding at Andy.

“Think you can hang outside for a while, Bambi?” he asks.

“You have a lot to talk about,” Andy says, nodding back. “I’d rather you clear the air now.”

Her lips are set in a thin, hard line as she slowly makes her exit, and Jemma knows that she would really prefer to stay. But given the circumstances, Jemma finds herself more comfortable once the freckled woman has left the room. Trust. This is all about trust and always has been. That’s what Jasper had asked of her and that’s what Andy is asking now. The caveat to that being, of course, that trust is at a premium these days.

There’s silence following the younger Coulson’s retreat, as Phil, Melinda, Clint and Natasha take the time to study one another. Regardless of how easy the conversation had flowed and how quick Clint had been to embrace Phil, Jemma knows that the relationship between the four of them is still very far from repaired. If she had to guess, she’d say that they probably aren’t paying much attention to the rest of them.

“So can we trust her or not?” Skye interrupts, drawing their attention yet again as she gets straight to the point.

Clint eyeballs Skye following her statement before he turns to look at Phil and says, “I like her.”

A small, crooked smile makes its way to Phil’s face as he says, “I thought you might.”

“But seriously, we’ve got an ex-HYDRA agent sitting poolside out there,” Skye says, pointing to the door. “Can we trust what she’s saying?”

“Probably,” Natasha says.

“Yeah, kinda hoping for a little more than that,” Skye replies.

“It’s complicated. She’s had her head fucked with for months, among other things,” Clint says, folding his arms across his chest and giving them all a view of his impressive forearms. “I can tell you that she’s not theirs anymore, but that’s about as far as my assurances go.”

“And how can you be sure she’s not still under their control?” Jemma wants to know.

“Cecil took us to Night Vale’s City Hall,” Clint says. He eyes Phil meaningfully. “You remember? The thing about re-education?”

Phil nods, but doesn’t say anything.

“It wasn’t pretty, but it did the trick,” Clint says with a sigh. “But as far as Jasper? I know about as much as you do. I wouldn’t have thought he’d have been with HYDRA, but then, I could say the same about a lot of people I thought I knew. I know that she’s not gonna to stop until she’s sure one way or another about him, so whatever she needs to do, I’m gonna have her back.”

“I see,” Phil says. He turns his gaze to Natasha. “And you?”

Natasha shrugs. “Someone has to have Clint’s back.”

Phil nods once again, silent. Jemma wonders what must be going through his head. Undoubtedly enough to give him a headache, judging by the way he rubs his temples. But as difficult as this conversation is, it’s necessary. They can’t move forward until they know where they all stand.

“Simmons, I’d like to speak with you later. Alone,” Phil announces. “But for now, I’d like you, Skye, Fitz and Trip to keep an eye on… Andrea. The rest of us need to continue this discussion privately.”

“Sir, before you make any decisions—“ Jemma begins.

“There won’t be any decisions made without each of you being involved,” Phil assures her. “We’re just going to talk.”

Jemma looks to the others, hoping to wordlessly get their feedback. Trip looks wary, but willing to comply. Leo doesn’t seem like he’d like to be in this room _or_ out of it. Skye looks more intent on stubbornly insisting they stay until Jemma shakes her head at her. Skye doesn’t look happy about it, but thankfully, she seems willing to go along with what Jemma thinks is best.

“Okay, we’ll go sit outside, but let’s get one thing clear first,” Skye says. She points at Phil as she directs her words at Clint and Natasha. “I get that you guys have some beef with the whole not being told he was alive thing, but if you do anything other than talk to him, I _will_ come in here and kick your butts.”

“Yeah, I definitely like her,” Clint tells Phil.

“Skye, it’s fine. Please go wait outside,” Phil says, looking to be in no mood for fooling around.

The four of them take the hint and gradually filter out of the room. As Jemma closes the door behind her, she knows that the conversation she’s leaving them to will not be a pleasant one, but as she looks across the pool and spies Andy Coulson staring up at the night sky, she has to think that the one she’s in for will hardly be any better.


	13. Troublesome Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrea Coulson has a lot to say, but Jemma's not so sure they should listen.

Jemma isn’t even sure where to begin. Judging by the looks on her teammates faces, she isn’t the only one. Andy gives up her inspection of the stars to regard them thoughtfully, appearing neither expectant nor anxious. If anything, she seems to possess a sort of resigned patience as she sits with her hands in her lap.

“So are you really Coulson’s kid?” Skye wants to know. “Because if you’re just jerking everyone around—“

“I’m not. Jerking you around, I mean,” Andy offers, her fingers drumming against her knees. “You can ask Melinda. She’s been around since, well, before I was even born.”

“And you were really under HYDRA’s control when we met? The whole time?” Jemma presses, walking closer.

“Yes. I did try to fight back, not that it’s any excuse,” Andy says. “It just wasn’t enough. It never was, for any of us.”

“There were others,” Trip infers.

“Many,” Andy affirms. “Some of them made it, some of them didn’t. Some of them I’ve got no clue about.”

“I think that this is all well and good, but when it comes right down to it, from the moment I met you until tonight has been a lie,” Jemma says, taking a seat on the deck chair across from the other woman. “Before I can even begin to consider placing any sort of trust in you, I need reassurances. Some proof that we can take you for your word.”

Andy clasps her hands in her lap and stares down at them quietly, perhaps considering Jemma’s request. It’s not an unusual request, in Jemma’s opinion, given the situation. They have encountered liars at every turn and the lies need to stop. Before they can move forward in any way, the lies need to be laid out before them, the truths stripped bare. It would seem Andy shares that mindset as she leans forward and looks up at Jemma with a gleam in her eye that Jemma has seen in Phil’s before—the one that means she won’t be beat down, won’t be bested, won’t give up.

“Full disclosure? You might not like some of the things you hear,” Andy warns her.

“I already don’t like much of what I’ve heard,” Jemma replies. “Full disclosure, please.”

“Alright,” Andy says, glancing around them. “What would you like to know?”

“Tell me what makes you so certain Jasper is alive,” Jemma says. “And give me a reason why I should trust you or him.”

“It’s a complicated issue,” Andy admits with a small shrug of her shoulders. “A lot of this hinges on what sorts of impossible things you’re willing to believe.”

“Given the kind of stuff we’ve come up against since this team was put together, I’d say we’re pretty open minded,” Skye says.

“Fair enough,” Andy replies. “The reason why I’m so certain he’s alive? Well, I’ve mentioned the LMDs and that HYDRA makes them to ensure that their assets are well protected. What I didn’t mention was that I have firsthand experience. There were several LMDs constructed in my likeness which I operated until they were destroyed in the field.”

“Destroyed as in… they were killed?” Leo presses.

Andy nods. “It was their purpose. An LMD allowed me to undertake the dangerous assignments that I wouldn’t have been sent on otherwise because, while operating one, death was no longer factor. Well, not a permanent factor. They hadn’t completely worked out the kinks with the neural link so there was some significant kickback when you died, depending on the manner of death, but a week or two of a medically induced coma were better than actually dying. Well, I mean sometimes, anyway. Sometimes when you experienced enough of a shock—like, say, being kicked off a roof—it was enough to upset your conditioning. Moments like that would allow you to see what you were doing, like you were watching your body from the outside. It was… disorienting, confusing, because they conditioned you to think certain things and then when you’d start to crack, there would be these bits of something else. Something that would refute that conditioning. It was like drowning. Like you suddenly realized you needed to breathe and you’d kick and kick for the surface but the moment you think you’re about to break through, they push your head back under. They drag you back down and make you forget that you ever even needed air. I know that’s what happened to him on that rooftop because Jasper, whether he was really him or the him that HYDRA wanted him to be, would _never_ give up information like that. So I think… I think that fall jostled him. It shook him up and that was the real him trying to help Cap and Natasha. Some little bit of him.”

“You can’t be sure that’s what happened to Jasper,” Jemma reminds her quietly, still fighting not to get her hopes up. It would be so easy to believe her, to say that this is what had happened, to pretend that it might still be alright.

“I can’t be sure,” Andy agrees. “But I don’t think I’m wrong. What did Jasper tell you about his life before S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

Jemma shifts uncertainly in her seat. It doesn’t feel like something that’s hers to share. Even now, the thought of sharing something so private that’s very much not hers to share makes her uncomfortable. But there’s a point to all of this. She can see that much. And if there’s a light at the end of this tunnel, if Jasper really is innocent and alive, she can worry about apologizing for the violation then.

“His father was an FBI agent that he never knew. He became involved in gang activity at a young age and was shot when he attempted to leave. After that he joined the police force, not knowing that the entire department was crooked,” Jemma answers. “His mother died and it inspired him to turn his fellow officers in, even if it meant being convicted with them. Agent Coulson assisted him in that endeavor and offered him a position at S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Yeah, almost none of that happened,” Andy says flatly.

Jemma gapes like a fish. “But… But the tattoos! The scars where he was shot!”

“Fake. Well, the tattoos anyway. The gunshot wounds were real,” Andy informs her. “His mother’s still very much alive. She lives in Brooklyn and knits us sweaters for Christmas.”

“I don’t think you’re helping his case here,” Trip points out, folding his arms over his chest. “Or yours.”

“Look, Jasper is as goody-goody as they come. Almost as bad as Agent Coulson. But he can do something my dad can’t: he can make people believe otherwise,” Andy relates back to them. “When I say his patsy is legendary, I’m not saying it lightly. What he told you, Jemma, was a lie with a purpose. He needed it to ensure that HYDRA trusted him; he needed them to think that he was just using you to get close to Coulson.”

“So what you’re saying is that he’s lied to me since the moment we met,” Jemma says stiffly.

“No. Well… Alright, yes about some things, but listen to me first. Listen, don’t go damning him just yet,” Andy says imploringly.

“It seems like all we’ve done so far is a great deal of listening,” Leo says, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“And you still don’t understand,” Andy says fiercely, shooting up from her seat. As Trip and Skye tense in anticipation of a fight, Jemma watches her relax her posture and force herself back into a calmer state. The freckled woman turns her attention towards Leo. “Fitz, tell me; if you were me and Jemma were Jasper, what would you do to get her back? What would you do to convince everyone to keep believing in her?”

Jemma turns and catches Leo’s eyes as they land on her. She sees the way he softens, some of the tension and fight bleeding out of him as he considers the question posed. She knows the answer. They both do.

“I would do everything I could for her,” Leo says softly. “No matter what the cost was to me.”

“And that’s what I’m doing,” Andy says. “Jasper doesn’t deserve this. My d—… _Agent Coulson_ doesn’t deserve what’s happened to him. None of you deserve these things that have happened to you. You’re all the victims of a plot that I helped move along, so I need to be the one to fix it. Do you understand? I became an agent because I wanted to do good, because I wanted to help people, and I haven’t done that. Instead I’ve hurt people. I’m not here to sell you a sob story, I just… S.H.I.E.L.D. is my family and I need to protect it.”

She looks tired, Jemma thinks. Tired of trying to explain all of this, most likely. Tired in ways that Jemma can’t even begin to understand. She has no doubt that there are a great many things that Andy has been put through that she isn’t telling them—because as she said, she isn’t here to tell them a sob story—and Jemma thinks that, perhaps, she understands. Families come in all shapes and sizes; some people are born into and others they build for themselves. Andy has lost the family she was born into because Phil doesn’t remember her. So her desperation to save the family she’s built, well, Jemma can understand that.

“I’m not saying I believe you and I’m not making any promises that I will welcome him back with open arms,” Jemma says slowly, looking up at the other woman. “But I can wait. I’m willing to do that much.”

“That’s all I’m asking for,” Andy sighs, slowly sinking back down to her chair, appearing wrung out. “No promises, just a chance. That’s all I need.”

“Bambi.”

Their attention is diverted at the sound of Clint’s voice. The archer stands in the now open doorway of the hotel room, looking to their little gathering expectantly.

“Phil wants to see you,” he says. “About the thing.”

“You told him?” Andy asks, looking suddenly as though she might be ill.

“Kind of had to, didn’t we?” Clint asks with a shrug. He points at Jemma and Leo. “Wants you in here, too.”

“And we’re just supposed to wait out here?” Skye asks, gesturing between herself and Trip. “I don’t think so.”

“Clint, I think they’d all better just come along,” Andy says, looking distinctly displeased to Jemma’s eyes, but prepared to do whatever it is she has to do. “If you let one of them in, you’ve basically let them all in. Besides… full disclosure, right?”

Jemma watches Clint’s eyes scan the group. He doesn’t come any closer to them, apparently seeing everything he needs to see from his current vantage point. She’s not sure what he’s looking for or even if he finds it, because a moment later, his sharp gaze has returned to Andy.

“It’s your call,” he says.

“Lies and buried truths are what lead us here,” Andy says, shaking her head. “It has to stop. You know that.”

That seems to be enough for Clint, who nods over his shoulder in a gesture for them to follow him back inside the room. As they solemnly march forward like obedient little soldiers, Jemma sneaks a look or two at Andy. She’s tense, her body rigid with it, and she walks like a woman off to the gallows. Given everything they’ve heard so far, Jemma has to wonder what could possibly be any worse. When they file back into the room, the look on Phil’s face tells her that whatever it is, it’s that much worse.

“They said they weren’t going to wait outside,” Clint says, hiking a thumb over his shoulder.

“I thought it would be better if we did this all in one go,” Andy says quietly.

Phil looks to her, opens his mouth to reply and shuts it quickly. He folds his arms over his chest, staring down at the floor with his lips pressed into a thin, unhappy line. Jemma’s sure he’s about to tell the other two to do as he said and wait outside, but to her great surprise, he nods sharply, his piercing gaze landing on his daughter.

“Alright,” Phil says gruffly. He nods towards Trip. “Lock the door behind you and close the blinds, please.”

“Okay, you’re starting to freak me out a little here,” Skye says, voicing what they’re all thinking. “Want to explain what’s going on?”

“There’s something we need to see,” Phil says shortly.

Andy crosses the room as though that were her cue and Jemma’s eyes follow her curiously. She takes a seat on the far bed, her back facing them, and just as Jemma’s beginning to wonder what they’re all waiting for, she begins to slowly, meticulously, disrobe. With a start, Jemma opens her mouth to ask what’s going on, but Melinda shoots her a silent glare, hard and warning like she’s never seen before and the biochemist’s voice dies in her throat.

“Sometimes HYDRA’s assets are deemed too difficult to work with. When you have an asset that continues to fight against their conditioning, that must be reconditioned time and again, they eventually reach a stage where they’re no longer viable as themselves. At this point their designation is changed from ‘Asset’ to what they call a ‘Troublesome Mind,’” Andy explains, dropping her coat on the bed, her hoodie following soon after. “I was a Troublesome Mind.”

Jemma finds herself hanging on the words, waiting for whatever might come next as the young woman sits still and silent in her jeans and plain white t-shirt. At this point, she’s almost afraid to find out what that means, what becomes of a Troublesome Mind, but like any good scientist, her curiosity outweighs her fears.

“You can probably guess that just because you’re more trouble than you’re worth doesn’t mean they’ll just let you go,” Andy says. “They can still find a use for you. They can wipe you, make you into something else. Something useful.”

Jemma’s breath hitches as Andy tugs her shirt off over her head. Running down her spine is a metallic device she’s seen before: on the forearm of Mike Peterson. It’s a slightly different model, from what she can see—it’s thicker, sturdier looking, and it glows a soft blue instead of orange—but the design is unmistakable. Without thinking, she takes a step forward, but catches herself before she can take another. Jemma looks to Phil for confirmation, believing this is why he must have wanted her here, but wanting to be sure, all the same. The older agent stands where he is, his eyes transfixed on the young woman’s back and a hand pressed to his mouth. It’s only when Melinda nudges him gently that seems to notice Jemma staring at all. He offers a sharp nod to her unspoken question and that gives Jemma all the answer she needs.

She strides forward quickly with Leo in her wake, but hesitates when she reaches the bed. Andy sits still and silent, apparently waiting for something from them.

“Do you mind if we examine you?” Jemma asks quietly.

“No,” Andy says simply. “I don’t mind.”

Jemma nods and stops to visually take in what she’s seeing before her, Leo mumbling beside her as he studies their subject with the same intensity. The structure seems to mimic the shape and length of a human spine with each block serving as a sort of vertebrae. The chamber in the center of each block is not orange in color like she’s used to seeing—the apparent standard model—but rather a soft blue. She curiously reaches out to touch, but the moment she does, Andy flinches and Jemma pulls her hand away as though burned.

“I’m sorry, does it hurt?” Jemma asks.

“No. No it’s, um… I’m just not used to it,” Andy says. Her posture is rigid and uncomfortable, her fingers digging into the bed sheets beneath her and for the first time since she had arrived, Jemma truly pities her. “Goodbye backless dresses, huh?”

The lighthearted joke sounds forced, the soft twitter of laughter that follows even more so. The device must be freshly implanted, Jemma thinks; the pale, freckled flesh it is imbedded in is slightly pink around the edges. She makes a mental note to be on the lookout for any signs of infection.

“It’s recent,” Leo notes. “How long ago was it implanted?”

“A couple weeks at most,” Andy answers. “I don’t remember much of it.”

“Do you know anything about this model?” Leo asks.

“Only that it was new, so I don’t know how many others might have it,” Andy admits. “I know that after the round from that Night Night Pistol of yours stabilized Mr. Peterson, the R&D team got to work. And this is the result. Beyond that… I don’t know. I’m not even completely sure what it’s doing to me, to be honest.”

Jemma believes she’s seen enough and lays a gentle hand on the other woman’s shoulder, taking note of the way the muscles tense beneath her fingers.

“It’s alright,” Jemma quietly assures her. “You can get dressed, I think we’ve seen everything we need to.”

Andy looks back over her shoulder and meets Jemma’s gaze. She doesn’t say anything, but the gratitude is written all over her face. The other woman makes quick work of pulling her shirt back on and zipping up her hoodie, apparently eager to hide what she’d just shown them.

“It looks different,” Phil asks, his voice gruff. “Any idea why that is?”

“Well, as she’s just said, Mike had said it was our Night Night Gun that had stabilized him,” Leo offers, rubbing a hand across his chin. “If HYDRA had found that out, perhaps they could have incorporated it into their serum? Beforehand instead of after?”

“Which might result in the blue coloration, yes,” Jemma agrees, nodding her head. “As for the location… Well, it’s easier to conceal, firstly. Secondly, the design is slightly different than what we saw on Mike. Attaching the device along the spinal cord may provide additional neurological enhancements that might be lost in implanting it upon the forearm, but that’s just speculation. I would need to run tests to confirm.”

Jemma looks back to Andy, watching her as she faces them with her arms folded across her chest.

“Are you experiencing any enhance—“

“Enhanced strength, enhanced stamina, enhanced reflexes, yes. I’m experiencing enhanced just about everything so far,” Andy cuts her off.

“Though, I imagine you’re still adapting,” Jemma says slowly.

“Yeah,” Andy says. “Although, it’s strange because… I mean, this isn’t the same stuff they used to turn Steve Rogers into Captain America, I know that, but I had figured it would be… better.”

“Better,” Melinda echoes. “How so?”

“I don’t know just… You know how I’m farsighted?” Andy says. When Melinda nods, she shrugs. “Well, I’m still farsighted. I heal better than before, but anything that was already here seems to be still here.”

“In other words, it seems to be able to prevent future deterioration but doesn’t account for pre-existing conditions,” Jemma says slowly. “Interesting.”

“Right. Interesting,” Andy says, her tone making it clear she doesn’t find it as interesting as Jemma does.  She shakes her head. “Look, if Jasper’s still out there, this is why I need to get a move on. Because if I’m not fast enough, there’s a good chance they’ll do this to him, too. The only reason I’m standing here now is Clint. They’re doing this to our people—you need to know that. Before you do whatever it is you’re all going to do, you need to know that not everyone is with HYDRA by choice.”

No one says anything. If Jemma has to guess, none of them _know_ what to say. The idea that they could find themselves squared off against friends, allies made into unwilling combatants, is terrifying. It also presents a very important question: how do we tell who’s who?

“Obviously this is a great deal for all of us to process. A lot has happened in the past few days and I think we need to take tonight to decompress, as a group, so that we’re ready for whatever tomorrow brings and ready to fight back,” Phil says, filling in the silence left in the wake of Andy’s words. He looks to their three guests. “Will you stay the night?”

Clint shoves his hands in his pockets and relaxes his stance. “Why do you think we brought pizza?”

* * *

They all made a show of turning in for the night, but Jemma doesn’t think any of them are really sleeping. It’s not the sort of night where any of them get any real semblance of rest. Still, at the very least, they’re all lying still in their beds while she feels an unusual restlessness. It’s not as though she doesn’t _try_ to sleep, it’s just that she’s not sure she can. Not with her brain running at a million and one miles per hour at any rate.

As quietly as she can, she slips out of her bed and tiptoes across the carpet. Just as she has her hand on the doorknob, she feels a hand on her shoulder and nearly jumps out of her skin. Twisting around sharply, she finds Skye standing behind her making a shushing motion before encouraging her to open the door. Jemma does so and the two of them slip out into the night air.

When they draw nearer to the pool, it’s apparent that they’re not the only ones looking for some fresh air. They find Andy with her knees drawn up sitting in one of the pool chairs with something clutched to her chest.

“Is that a Captain America teddy bear?” Skye asks.

“What? _No_ ,” Andy says defensively, drawing the bear beneath her blanket and out of sight.

“It totally is,” Skye says with a smirk. “Come on, don’t even try to hide it. AC practically gushes about the guy.”

Jemma hears what sounds like Andy making a dissatisfied noise at being found out as she reluctantly pulls the bear back into view. Jemma can see that the bear has seen some miles; it’s worn with age in the way that only well-loved things can be. Knowing the man’s respect for the Captain, Jemma has to wonder if Phil had given her that bear and can only think that it’s a reasonable conclusion to draw.

“Couldn’t sleep I take it?” Andy asks them.

“Nah,” Skye says, sinking into a pool chair and pulling Jemma down with her. “Been kind of a weird, weird couple of days.”

“Mm. I’ve got some extra blankets here if you want to make yourselves comfortable,” Andy says.

“Thank you. I think we will; it’s gotten a bit chillier out now that it’s night,” Jemma says, accepting the blanket that the other woman offers them.

Together, she and Skye wrap the blanket around them as they sit huddled together on the long, white pool chair. She feels Skye’s arm wrap around her with the blanket and she leans into the embrace, resting her head on the hacker’s shoulder. She feels Skye’s head rest against the top of her own and lets out a slow sigh. Maybe this is what she needed. Just the dark and the stars and someone who cares in the sort of way that only Skye can.

Skye knows she’s hurting and confused and, for once, it’s nice to not have to explain that. It’s nice to have someone understand that there’s something wrong that they can’t fix, who’s willing to just provide a shoulder to lean on or a hug when needed. Now, more than ever, Jemma cherishes the bond she’s developed with Skye.  

“Dum Dum?”

Jemma looks up at the rustling of a plastic bag and the question. She and Skye break apart to offer each other perplexed looks, but neither of them decline the offer. If Jemma’s being completely honest, a little something sweet sounds good right about now. They reach into the bag, smiling along with the other woman as they fish until they get their preferred flavor.

“How many of these have you had exactly?” Jemma asks, unwrapping the small, butterscotch flavored lollipop.

“A few,” Andy admits, licking her lips as she twirls a lollipop between her fingers. “I like to keep them around because they kind of help me think. I like the Mystery Flavored ones.”

“Oh man, those are the best,” Skye agrees.

“I don’t know, I’m quite happy with butterscotch,” Jemma says, sucking on the treat.

“Of course you are,” Skye says, nudging her playfully.

The trio lapses into silence, each of them studying the night sky as they indulge in a late night sugar fix. For once, Jemma is the one to speak up first, beating Skye to the punch.

“Andy?” Jemma inquires, gaining the shorter woman’s attention. “Do you suppose you’ll find him?”

“I think so,” Andy says, nodding resolutely. “I don’t know when or where, but I think I’ll find him. And then I’ll find Felix. And Akeela. And anyone else that I can, wherever they are. And after that, anyone who’s willing to come with us, we’ll come find you and do whatever we can to help. Because you’re going after John, aren’t you?”

“Pretty sure that’s the plan,” Skye says. “Not sure exactly how we’re gonna do that but I don’t think Coulson plans to chill out by the pool until this all blows over.”

“I’m sure he’d much prefer to do something insanely risky and stupid,” Andy says dryly.

“Guess that’s how we roll these days,” Skye agrees.

“That’s pretty much how he’s always rolled,” Andy says with a huff of laughter. “But you’re a great team and I know you’ve got his back just as much as he has yours.”

“Do you really think that?” Jemma inquires. “He is your father, after all.”

“He could be alone,” Andy says with a shrug. “But he isn’t. I haven’t been able to be here for him, so I’m glad all of you have been. I know it hasn’t been easy, so I just want to thank you.”

“It’s not something you’ve gotta thank us for,” Skye assures her. “We _want_ to be there for him. He’s been there for us. I mean he’s…”

“Family,” Jemma adds quietly.

Skye turns just enough to catch her eye. She smiles, and beneath the blanket, Jemma feels the hacker squeeze her hand. They’re a family and whether or not they’ve ever verbally acknowledged it, they all know it.

“I’m glad,” Andy says with a soft smile. “That’s the way teams should be.”

“Clearly Ward didn’t get the memo,” Skye says darkly.

“No,” Andy sighs. “I guess he didn’t.”

Jemma can hear Skye and Andy continuing on with quiet conversation, but she finds herself distracted by her own thoughts. Her found family is small and has now grown smaller with Grant’s betrayal. With the collapse of S.H.I.E.L.D., they find themselves adrift, clinging to each other as they hope to find evidence that everything isn’t lost. The threat looming over them is enormous, but she has to believe they’ll find a way to overcome.

Jemma looks down into the pool, watching as the moon’s reflection ripples faintly in the water, and thinks of Jasper. Whether he’s dead or alive, if he’s with HYDRA or really just a victim as Andy seems to believe, if he’s in danger or not, Jemma doesn’t know. But she does know one thing: she had made a promise to trust him. She had told him she forgave him. He’s hurt her, whether he meant to or not, and that will need to be addressed. The lies and the deception will need to be addressed. She’d known all along that there was a half of him that she wasn’t seeing, and for a time she’d thought she might’ve known what lay hidden in shadow.

Now she sees she’d been wrong.

Tomorrow Andy, Clint and Natasha will leave and their two groups will go their separate ways. Jemma will devote herself to protecting her family and stopping whatever mad plot John Garrett is enacting. She will not have time or energy to waste on distractions. But when this is over, when they come out on the other side, she’ll be waiting. For better or worse, she’ll wait.


	14. The Great Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the closing of the day, they gather the seeds from the poison fruit and pray for healthy trees.

There have been many times when Jemma has had to ask herself how they’d come this far. This time, she thinks, it may be as far as they’ll ever go. She doesn’t want to think that—god she doesn’t want to—but sitting in a pod at the bottom of the ocean with everything Leo’s worked out while she was unconscious means that it’s a very likely possibility. That part of her that believes there’s a way out, that there’s a solution if only they look hard enough, doesn’t want to believe that. But the facts are stacked overwhelmingly against them.

“I’m sorry,” Leo says, interrupting her thoughts.

They’ve started and stopped conversations for the past hour or so, their topics petering out into thoughtful silence when they’re faced with the harsh reality of the situation they find themselves in. She drags her gaze away from the ocean and the creatures swimming past their window, frowning at the statement.

“For what?” she asks.

“For Jasper,” Leo clarifies. He shifts, wincing in discomfort as the motion disturbs his broken arm. “I don’t think I ever said it. Or… or offered to listen if you needed to talk. And I should have.”

“Fitz, it’s alright,” Jemma says, shaking her head. “Everything happened so quickly, and to be honest, I’m not sure what I’m feeling anymore.”

“No, it’s not alright,” Leo insists. “We’re supposed to… be there for each other, you and I. And I should’ve been there.”

“I know you’re here when I need you. You always have been,” Jemma tells him. She shrugs absently. “I would’ve gone to you, just… I think I needed the space, for once. But knowing you’re there, well, it makes it alright.”

They share a brief smile, a brief moment of connection that doesn’t need any words before they return to silence, contemplating the hopelessness of their situation.

“I’d like to think she might’ve been right. Andy, I mean,” Leo says suddenly, plucking at the fabric of his pants. “It would be nice to think some of the people who were supposed to be our friends really are.”

Jemma feels a tug in her chest at the bitterness in his tone. He had been so adamant, so sure that Grant hadn’t really betrayed them. He’d wanted so badly to believe that Grant truly was their friend and that he wouldn’t hurt them like this. She knows how much he’d cherished their friendship because as much as she and Leo were similar, this was one way they were different. Leo didn’t make friends easily and never had. Jemma had grown to come out of her shell and, though she believed he would too, Leo was a late bloomer in that category.

Having someone like Grant Ward as a friend had been important to him. And for all intents and purposes, they _had_ been friends; because even if Grant had been faking it, Leo most certainly hadn’t been.

“It’s not your fault,” she assures him. “You couldn’t have known Ward was with HYDRA.”

“I should’ve known,” he mumbles.

“And what do you suppose I’ve been telling myself?” Jemma points out. She sighs slowly, resting her forehead against the window, the glass cooled by the ocean water on the other side. “No one could have guessed. No one.”

“Suppose it hardly matter now,” Leo notes absently.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Jemma chides. “We’re not dead yet.”

“Not _yet_ , no,” Leo says. He idly rolls a ball of lint between his fingers before looking up at her and saying, “But I really am sorry.”

“So am I,” Jemma says, her voice sounding small and tired. “He just seemed so… genuine. Even when I knew he was hiding something from me, he came right out and admitted it. That he would have done all the things they say he did just seems…”

She doesn’t want to say impossible. It’s not impossible. It’s just that it doesn’t make sense. But then, hardly any of this does. She had thought she’d have time to work it out, that there would be an ‘after’ to all of this madness. She had thought there would be another side for them to come out on. Now she has to wonder. No one even knows they’re out here and even if they somehow managed to make it out and to the surface, no one will be looking for them.

“I liked him, for what it’s worth,” Leo says. “I liked that he made you happy. And what with the possibility of… LMDs and brainwashing… I’ve spent every moment hoping that was the case with him and that he hadn’t willingly hurt you like this. Because I can’t stand to see you hurt, Jemma. I can’t stand it.”

She feels that tightness in her chest, like a knot in a string being tugged, and she’s thankful for it. She’s thankful for Leo. Everything he’s just said, she knows she never has to doubt because it’s the very same way she feels about him. They would do anything for one another. It’s no stretch of the truth to say that Leo is her other half. Looking at how far they’ve come, she knows they could have only done it together. She feels her eyes growing watery as she abandons her view of the ocean to meet his eyes instead.

“I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but if there’s anyone I’d like to be trapped down here with, it’s you,” she sniffles. A hiccup of laughter escapes her as her tears flow and she tries to explain. “Not that I want to be down here. Not that I want _you_ to be down here, I wish we weren’t here at all, but it’s… Leo, you’re… out of everyone you’re the most…”

“No, I know, Jemma, I’m… yeah, me too,” Leo says, nodding quickly. He fares only marginally better than she does when it comes to holding back his tears.

She crawls towards him until they can embrace one another; mindful of their injuries, but holding on as tightly as they will allow. It shouldn’t have to end like this. But then, there are a lot of things which have happened recently which shouldn’t have. She looks over his shoulder, out into the ocean surrounding them. It’s peaceful, in its own way, being here with him. Holding each other. In the dark, in the quiet.

“Are you scared?” she asks him.

She feels his good hand gripping the back of her cardigan, the action giving her an answer before his words do.

“Yeah,” he whispers. He pauses before adding, “And I’m hungry, too.”

“Me, too,” Jemma agrees. “Scared, not hungry.”

She feels a soft huff of laughter leave him at the clarification.

“What do you think it’s like?” she wonders.

“Death?”

She nods against his shoulder.

“Well… depends on the method, really,” Leo murmurs clinically. “Drowning’s supposed to be quite pleasant in the end apparently, once the water fills up your lungs—“

“I mean after.”

“Oh, yeah, well. My mum always said that… you shouldn’t be afraid because… it’s just like the way life was before you were born. Wasn’t that bad, was it?”

Jemma thinks of Mrs. Fitz, all alone in that house, and swallows the lump in her throat. “That’s sweet. Though apparently I was miserable before I was born. Upside-down, umbilical cord all wrapped around my head.”

“Yeah… well, she meant pre-conception of co—“

“I know, I know, I was only jok—“

“—I know you’re joking, that’s fine.”

Just like that, the full weight of their situation is pressing down on them once again. She supposes it had been foolish to think they could escape it, even for a little while, but at least she’d tried. At least she’d tried to make this… bearable.

“I like to think about the first law of thermodynamics,” she says softly.  “That no energy in the universe is created and—“

“—none is destroyed,” he says with her.

She gives him a brief squeeze.

“That means that every bit of energy inside us, every particle, will go on to be a part of something else,” she continues, gazing out the window. “Maybe live as a dragonfish. A microbe. Maybe burn in a supernova ten billion years from now. And every part of us now was once a part of some other thing. A moon. A storm cloud. A mammoth.”

“A monkey,” Leo suggests hopefully.

“A monkey,” she agrees with a smile. “Thousands and thousands of other beautiful things that were just as terrified to die as we are. We gave them new life. A good one, I hope.” She swallows thickly, eyes trapped on the window. “It’s fitting we’re down here together. This is where all life began on our planet, anyway. Just outside that… glass…”

“Jemma.”

She hears her name, but there’s something else capturing her attention. Something more important.

“What?” Leo breathes.

“The glass,” she says, sitting up and pulling away from him. “Fitz, the _glass_.”

“Yeah, it’s… bulletproof, pressure resistant…” he says, shaking his head.

“But the seal is 4-hydroxy-4-methyl-2-pentanone, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, I know what you’re thinking,” he says, closing his eyes and shaking his head, “but the flashpoint is too high for it to burn.”

“But medical ethanol has a _low_ flashpoint,” she says insistently, “and it burns—“

“—hotter,” Leo finishes, a look of realization dawning upon his face. “If we could use the defibrillator as an ignition source—“

“—and build a compressed explosive—“

“—to ignite the seal and the outside pressure would—“

“—blow the window in!” the say together.

They’re on their feet now, jumping around like children in a bouncy castle in sheer joy at their discovery. Well, until that jumping jostles Leo’s arm and they’re forced to settle down. But there’s hope now. There’s a way. There’s a solution.

They just have to make it.

* * *

It’s quiet at the Playground. Not the way it had been in that pod underwater, but Leo had been with her then. Not now. She sits beside his bed, but when he’s not awake to speak to her, it can hardly be called the same. She wonders if he even knows she’s here, that she’s been here every day since they’d arrived.

“Any change?”

Jemma looks up at the voice to find Phil standing in the doorway. He checks in as often as he can, but with his new role as Director, his responsibilities keep multiplying. Still, he makes time for them, for this. She shakes her head.

“These sorts of things, they can take time, you know,” she says as she looks back to her best friend’s face. “It could be… weeks or months. It just…”

“Takes time,” Phil agrees, resting a hand on her shoulder. Minutes pass in silence before he says, “Come on, let me make you something to eat.”

“Sir, you don’t have to—“

“Jemma, I know you haven’t eaten. I haven’t eaten. I’m pretty sure Skye hasn’t eaten,” Phil says. He pauses, squeezing her shoulder in some modicum of comfort. “You don’t want to leave him, and I get that, but let’s just take a break for a little while and put something in the tank, okay? You can come right back as soon as you’re finished.”

She knows there’s no point in arguing with him, much as there would be no point in arguing with her parents. At this point, she’s not sure if she’s even hungry or not, but she does know it’s been hours since she’d last forced herself to nibble on something. If she’s going to keep looking after Leo, she has to keep her strength up. So she’ll take a break. Just a quick one. He seems surprised when she doesn’t put up any further protest, but she’s too tired to fight him on this and he’s smart enough to accept his victory quietly.

After making sure that Leo is being looked after, she follows him out of the infirmary and through the vastly empty halls that stretch before them. Over the past three weeks they’ve steadily had people showing up at their door, lost agents who had found their way here, guided by the few trusted agents that Phil had deigned to contact thus far. Their ranks are filling out day after day, but it still feels so hollow.

“Agent May chased you away from your desk, didn’t she?” Jemma asks, staring down at her feet as they walk.

Phil grumbles, sounding like an agitated bear, and she knows she’s guessed correctly. She hasn’t exactly been kind to herself, but then, neither has he. Or any of them, for that matter. Proper rest seems to have been the last thing on the agenda for all of them and it shows; in their eyes, in the wan half-smiles they offer each other in passing. They’ve all been worn so thin, it’s a wonder they’re still standing by this point.

They find Skye where she spends most of her time now: in the gym, beating a punching bag until her knuckles bruise. The only way she might possibly be inspired to hit it harder would be if there were a picture of Grant’s face taped to it. Jemma’s fairly certain she’s seeing it clearly enough in her mind’s eye all the same. She hears the soft sigh from Phil as they approach, but doesn’t comment. She knows he’s worried about Skye’s state of mind after everything that’s happened. She knows he’s worried about all of them. She knows that worry is just more weight piled on top of him.

“Skye. Come on. Chow time,” Phil calls.

“Not hungry,” Skye answers, driving her fist into the bag.

“It wasn’t a question,” Phil says, his tone firmer this time. “Take a break. Come eat something with me and Jemma.”

“Jemma?” Skye says, twisting for a look. Her fists hang in the air, ready for another series of punches, but at the sight of the biochemist she slowly lowers them to her sides. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Jemma echoes with a small smile. “He’s right. You really should get something to eat. And drink as well, if you’re going to continue. You should stay properly hydrated.”

Skye eyes the empty water bottle discarded in the corner before looking to the two of them in turn and nodding once, shrugging her shoulders as she wanders towards them. She unwraps her hands as she walks. Phil sees the bruises and split knuckles as clearly as Jemma does, but no one says a word as they walk together towards the kitchen. They all have their coping mechanisms—some of them healthier than others—and for the time being, they know a lecture isn’t going to help anyone.

“You know what I’m craving? Grilled cheese,” Phil announces once they’ve arrived.

“Grilled cheese?” Skye repeats, an eyebrow quirked.

“And tomato soup,” Phil says. “My mother used to make the _best_ grilled cheese. And whenever I was having a bad day, it always did the trick.”

“Well, I think we can tick off the ‘bad day’ box,” Jemma sighs, seating herself on one of the stools at the island and leaning onto the countertop. “For quite a few days now.”

“Yeah. Grilled cheese sounds good,” Skye agrees. She looks to Phil. “You want some help, AC?”

“No, you two just sit down,” Phil says, shucking his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeves. For a moment, it almost looks like he’s trying to hide a smile when he says, “You’ll just mess with my flow.”

“Oh, well, excuse me Iron Chef,” Skye says with a faint smirk on her lips, hands raised in mock-offense. “Wouldn’t want to do that.”

Jemma finds herself smiling along, ensconced in a little pocket of levity. She’s needed it. A distraction, just for a little while. It’s not as though she forgets everything that’s happened and is happening, but for a little while she can just… not be completely enveloped in it. For just this little while, she can come up for air.

Phil had already proven on multiple occasions that his proficiency in the kitchen was nothing to be sneezed at. He appears to enjoy the task, moving with an ease and fluidity that seems to come naturally to him. Perhaps this is something he needs as much as they do. Given some of the complicated dishes she’s seen him prepare, Jemma supposes she shouldn’t be surprised that even something as simple as grilled cheese tastes wonderful, but here she is.

“Oh my god, I didn’t know how much I wanted this until I was eating it,” Skye says around a mouthful.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full. You’ll choke,” Phil warns her, dunking the corner of his sandwich into his soup.

“Okay, _dad_ ,” Skye says, kicking his shin under the table.

“Did you your mother teach you to cook?” Jemma wonders, blowing on a spoonful of soup.

Phil nods his head. “Some of it I learned from her, some of it I learned from taking classes.”

“You took cooking classes?” Skye snorts in amusement.

“It’s a valuable skill,” Phil replies with a shrug and a smile. “I took a lot of courses while I was at the Academy.”

“Like dancing,” Jemma teases.

“Like dancing,” Phil agrees with a soft chuckle. “Anyway, you really never knew what might come in handy someday and since I never went to college, I suppose you could say I was… making up for that, in a way.”

“I didn’t know that you hadn’t gone to college,” Jemma notes with an interested hum. “I always assumed you had.”

Phil shrugs lightly. “Couldn’t afford it.”

Jemma at once feels a bit out of place to be the only one among their little trio who’d gone to college. She’d gone to college and gone on to get her Masters and her Doctorate and a handful of other degrees and here neither of them had even had the chance to attend a college at all. Perhaps it shows on her face, because Phil puts on one of his best frowns and Skye nudges her with an elbow.

“We’re not jealous or anything,” Skye says. “Lighten up.”

“To be honest I’m not sure I would’ve had the patience for one degree never mind what you managed,” Phil says with a huff of laughter. He points to her with his spoon. “Never be ashamed of hard work.”

“Well, it’s just that I was thinking… you know, it’s really not fair that you didn’t get to go,” Jemma says, stirring her soup.

“No, but I think we turned out okay,” Skye says. She offers Jemma a slow smile. “Plus, I don’t think I’m the college type. Too many… rules.”

“They typically frown on hacking into their records to change your grades,” Phil agrees.

“You don’t know what I would do that,” Skye says.

Phil chooses to quietly eat his soup rather than answer.

“Okay, yeah, I would, but the American education system is bullshit,” Skye says in her defense. She chews on a bit of sandwich, regarding Phil thoughtfully. “Was the Academy where you met May?”

“It was,” Phil answers, a smile rising to his face at some memory in particular. Thankfully for Jemma’s curiosity, he decides to share. “Our instructor chose us as a hand-to-hand demonstration for the class. She handed my ass to me in seconds flat. I think I surprised her when I approached her after class and asked if she could teach me to do that. My Academy days were some of the best days of my life—I met a good number of the people that I call my friends today while I was there. May, Blake, Hand—“

“Hand? As in Victoria Hand? I thought you guys didn’t know each other,” Skye interrupts.

“I _thought_ we didn’t,” Phil answers, unable to mask the bitter tint to his voice. “Apparently she was another victim of my… forgetfulness. I’m starting to remember, I just wish I’d been able to do so sooner.”

Jemma frowns down at her soup. Even in happy memories, there seems to be no escape from their present situation. All the things and the people they’ve come to know, it’s all just been turned upside down. There are things which will never be the same and people they will never see again. As inescapable as those facts are, she finds herself still trapped in a state of disbelief. SHIELD is _gone_. Phil plainly senses the sudden dip in mood again and quickly changes the subject.

“You know what I _did_ remember recently? The time we all snuck out of our dorms to go get drunk and watch a meteor shower on the roof,” Phil says.

“Even May?” Skye asks.

“What, are you kidding? She was practically leading the charge,” Phil says with a laugh. “So I’d been pretty excited for this meteor shower for a few weeks and John, you know, he was always looking for an excuse to have a good time, so Melinda decides… why not have a little fun then?”

Phil continues on with his story, pausing only now and then to indulge their incredulous remarks, and before long Jemma finds herself reevaluating her earlier thought. The SHIELD they knew is gone, that’s true. But SHIELD itself isn’t. It’s right here. It’s in Phil and in Skye and in her. It’s in all of them. As long as they’re together, as long as they don’t give up, there will always be a SHIELD to come home to.

* * *

_“Jemma.”_

_“Yes?”_

_“Before we do this. Before we… I just want to tell you something.”_

_There’s something in the way he says this that lends a weight to his words that’s far heavier than all the ocean pressing down on their little cage. Her heart, already fluttering with anxiety, beats that much quicker._

_“What I want to say is… I never would’ve tried to get between you. You and Jasper. I never wanted to. I just wanted you to be happy, is all,” Fitz says, his hands holding hers in a too-tight grip. “And when I say this now, please understand that it’s not some attempt to… to move in now that he’s out of the picture. If he is at all. That’s not what I’m trying to do.”_

_“What are you saying?” Jemma asks, hearing the tremor in her own voice._

_He squeezes his eyes shut tight, a few tears leaking out despite his best efforts to keep them trapped. He sighs, long and slow._

_“I love you,” he tells her. “I’ve loved you for years and just couldn’t find a way to say it. Couldn’t find the courage. Maybe it’s cruel to say it now, of all times, but I just can’t stand the thought of never telling you what you mean to me.”_

_“Fitz,” Jemma says, refusing to let his hands go. “What are you **saying**?”_

_“We can’t both survive this,” he says with a frankness that frightens her. “I’ve rigged this canister to be able to deliver enough air for one breath. That should be enough to get you to the surface.”_

_“No,” she answers, feeling hot tears welling in her eyes to match his. “That’s not true. We just need to share the air supply—“_

_“We can’t, Jemma. We can’t,” he says. “I’ve done the math.”_

_“Then we’ll do it again!” she protests loudly, tearfully. “There has to be some way… there’s more than one breath in there. We can make it work. We’ll stay down here until we find a way to make it work.”_

_“There’s no other way. You’re the better swimmer, it makes sense,” Fitz says. “And besides which, I couldn’t… I couldn’t live if you didn’t.”_

_“And what makes you think I could?” she demands. “You’re my best friend.”_

_“And you’re… you’re so much more than that,” he insists._

_“That’s not fair. It’s not fair and you know it,” she says, fear spilling over into frustration. She throws her arms around him, locking on to him as though he might cede the pint simply for his inability to pry her off. She hugs him—her best friend, her other half—and buried her face in his shoulder, unable to stop the steady flow of tears. “You can’t do this.”_

_“Jemma, please.”_

_“No.”_

_“We don’t have much time.”_

_“ **No**.”_

_Logically, she knows he’s right. She knows she’s the better swimmer, that their chances of making it to the surface are astronomically better with her. True, he stands a chance of surviving, albeit an extremely slim one, but they’re odds she doesn’t want to play. Not with him. He wedges the canister up between them, uses it to lever her off of him before shoving it into her hands._

_“Just let me do this for you.”_

_“No, please, Fitz—“_

_He slams his palm down on the button. She screams._

_Her mother used to tell her that, in time, all things returned to the sea. As it roars around her, fills her ears and her lungs, Jemma wonders if this is what she meant._

* * *

“Simmons.”

Jemma jerks awake abruptly, startled into consciousness. She rubs blearily at her eyes, noting that she’d fallen asleep at her desk again. It’s a common enough occurrence these days. As are the nightmares, unfortunately. Fitz had woken some weeks ago, but as miraculous as that had been, the damage had been done. However hard she had kicked for the surface, it hadn’t been quick enough. No, she hadn’t been strong enough. Now Fitz… well, he might never be the same.

Swallowing her emotions, she looks up at Melinda, waiting for some explanation as to why she’d been woken and hoping it’s something other than the fact that sleeping at her desk is terrible for her back.

“We need you,” Melinda says.

Jemma isn’t sure what to make of the words, cryptic as they are, but rises with a nod. These days, those simple words are enough to rally any of them to action. She smooths the wrinkles out of her shirt as she follows the older woman out of the lab, her post-nightmare nausea clashing with the anticipatory anxiety of whatever it is they need her for.

“Barton and Romanoff are back,” Melinda explains as they walk. “And they’ve brought company.”

Jemma finds herself suddenly wide awake, her skin prickling like it’s been stuck with so many needles.

“Company,” she echoes.

Melinda, curiously, slows to a halt. She turns on the spot, pinning Jemma with her gaze. Melinda May is not what people might describe as the warmest of personalities. On the surface, at least. She does not kiss boo-boos or attempt to spare your feelings in any way unless she feels it’s truly warranted—and she rarely does. But to say she doesn’t care for them or look after them would be a gross mischaracterization. It’s rare that Melinda will deign to be gentle and as Jemma stares back at her now, she realizes it’s one of those moments.

“Sitwell _is_ with them,” Melinda says, seemingly trying to gauge her reaction.

“I understand,” Jemma says with a sharp nod, sounding stronger than she feels and feeling thankful for that much.

“We need you to conduct some neurological tests on him as well as some of our other newcomers to rule out any mind control,” Melinda explains. “But if you’d prefer to instruct one of the lab technicians, no one would question it.”

“No, no, I’ll be alright,” Jemma assures her. “I just wasn’t expecting to wake up to this, is all.”

Melinda watches her a moment longer before reaching out. Her fingers brush against Jemma’s arm and though the touch is brief, the gesture carries with it a depth of concern. Jemma nods again, reassuring her that she can, in fact, handle this and they continue on.

As much as Jemma assures Melinda she can, she’s not quite so sure of the fact. Her thoughts race fast enough to make her head spin, leaving her dizzy and struggling to focus enough to follow the other agent. The knowledge that Jasper is alive brings a mixed bag of emotions. She’s honestly not quite sure what to think. Or feel. She finds herself dreading the moment when she has to look him in the eye, afraid of what she’ll find there.

When they reach the cargo bay, Skye is already standing alongside Phil and Trip, watching the small group gathered before them. Jemma finds herself… understandably surprised. It’s quite a great deal more people than she’d been anticipating. There are a handful of faces she doesn’t know and a handful she never thought she’d see again.

Natasha and Clint are at the front of the group, seemingly unperturbed by the agents surrounding them and keeping their fingers trained on their weapons. Andy stands wedged between a red-headed woman and a tall, dark haired man—both unfamiliar. Curiously, Felix Blake is present, albeit confined to a wheelchair and looking far too pale for Jemma’s liking. Curioser still, standing behind him and gripping the handles of his wheelchair, is Victoria Hand.

There are others, but inevitably, she finds her eyes drawn to the one person she’d been most anxious to see: Jasper. Her breath hitches in her throat as his dark eyes meet hers from across the room, refusing to look away despite the fact that the way the muscle in his jaw jumps tells her he’d like to. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting or even hoping for in this moment. He looks… tired. Tired in the same way that Andy had looked as they’d sat beside the pool that night so many weeks ago.

She’d thought it would be different than this, somehow. The picture that Andy had painted was some grand reunion, saving those among them who had been wronged by HYDRA in the ways that they had. The idea of a reunion hadn’t included a group of tired, broken people standing at gunpoint on the doorstep of people they’re supposed to be allies with.

Not that she doesn’t understand it. She does. There’s no such thing as being too careful now. Not when they’d already experienced betrayal from within. But she should feel something, she thinks, as she looks at all of them, as she looks at the man she’d fallen in love with, and yet the only thing she feels is a numbness the reaches down to her very core.

“So,” Skye says as Jemma and Melinda join them. “This is… surprising.”

“More than,” Phil agrees.

“Any familiar faces?” Melinda asks.

Phil shrugs. “A few.”

They stand in silence, watching the group of people watching them. This is what they are; misplaced seeds from an apple that was poisoned before it ever fell from the tree. How many of those seeds are bad? How many will grow to produce the same poisoned apples from which they came? Looking out at them, Jemma has to remind herself that not everything was lost. There are some good seeds yet. So long as they work hard and till the soil, a sturdy tree may yet rise.

But for now, they’ll collect their seeds and pray for rain.

“What will we do now?” Jemma asks.

She turns her attention to Phil and finds the rest of them doing the same. Their new Director looks out over the people standing before them and sighs softly before resolutely nodding his head.

“What we do best: help people.”

 It’s an idea they can all get behind. And as they approach the group before them, Jemma meets Jasper’s gaze once again. She doesn’t know where they’ll go from here or what the future holds, but so long as they call and there are people to answer, they’ll find a way to keep walking forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who stuck with this fic! I hope it was worth it. <3


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